


Towards Dawn We Run

by Oodles



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Catboy Henryk, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-22 09:10:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 161,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13760880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oodles/pseuds/Oodles
Summary: Henryk doesn't quite fit into the society built around canine shapeshifters, so he does his best to keep to himself. It doesn't work.





	1. Chapter 1

Having an animal in you made you strong. That’s what they said, anyway. So many Yharnamites had something  _ else _ in them, a single soul twined through two bodies. They’d figured it out long ago, how to draw out this power from ordinary humans. Laurence was the first of the wolves, and from him they were able to use special blood to figure out who else could shift into a different form. They made Laurence the leader, of course, and he gave his stallion an army of dogs, the most common type of shift, to go to war with. Since then, the city had flooded with outsiders, everyone seeking that blood and true strength. 

‘Course, not everyone wanted this fate. Sometimes you weren’t special, and you didn’t want to know. Sometimes, you were only  _ half _ special, and that was a fate worse than death. It was awful to see, those half-human, half-beasts walking around, the blood only partially awoken in them. People like that, they couldn’t change back. Those who could still manage to speak went on with their sad lives, but those who had the “wrong” parts usually fled from civilization and the shame of it. There was talk of a group of half-breeds running around in the woods. No one really wanted to know. 

Normally, people took the test of ingesting some of the old blood to find out if they were a shifter. Sometimes it was dumber than that. 

Sometimes you were just a kid getting into a fight and you didn’t realize that the other boy was a shifter and all you had to defend yourself with was a knife you’d found. You’re slashing wildly at a half-turned dog and you get some blood in your mouth and the next thing you know, you’re on all fours, screaming and hissing, tail poised. 

That’s when you run. People don’t turn into fucking housecats. 

Henryk wasn’t entirely furious that he’d found out so young. After all, it meant less embarrassment as an adult. It was fairly common practice to have public testing. People celebrated the shift like a birthday. So, he didn’t have to worry about the whole goddamn city finding out that his inner animal, his supposed truest strength, looked like a stuffed animal and was about the same size.

He didn’t know of anyone else who shifted into something smaller than their human form. It was ridiculous. Most people were about the same size, except for the bigger, more powerful shifts. Simple as that. The city didn’t have the patience to think about anything else. 

Henryk made up for it. He told everyone he couldn’t shift and worked twice as hard to be just as talented as any normal shifter. Since he couldn’t become a war dog like a proper shifter, he took a job with the League, the band of non-shifters who hunted for the city. Though the League wasn’t nearly as respected as the regular shifters employed to hunt, they were still granted a certain amount of clout and it was enough to get Henryk the peace he wanted. A salary, his own place, and no goddamn shifters to give him funny looks when he said he was doing  _ just fine _ without their help. 

The League had garnered a bit of a wild reputation so most people avoided them. They took jobs that the shifters wouldn’t. They had to, or they’d lose their position. Valtr, their leader, had clawed his way up through the ranks as a non-shifter, and he’d be damned if they were disbanded for refusing work. 

Valtr knew about Henryk. Nearly killed Henryk when he found out. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Tarnishing my ranks as a shifter! You’d ruin my entire outfit if they knew,” he’d shouted at Henryk. “You’re the best one I have! They’d  _ erase _ this whole project if they thought we were all lying.”

Henryk had been caught with a tab of medicinal aconite, the med he used to resist the pull of the moon and the emotional tension that came with it. Emotional shifters could get a bit wild. Taking a little poison kept the madness away and Henryk made full use of this. 

Gritting his teeth, Henryk did the only thing he could think of. He changed in front of Valtr. 

The man stood over Henryk, staring down at the little black cat with the white tipped tail and the yellow eyes. Valtr just raised a brow. 

“Well.”

Henryk changed back, angrily grabbing his coat off the floor and covering his naked body— another thing he hated about shifting. When Henryk faced Valtr again, the man actually smiled.

“Fuck you,” Henryk spat. 

“No, no,” Valtr held his hands up. “Listen. You’ve given me a grand idea.”

Henryk knew by then how Valtr was. A grand idea to Valtr didn’t sound like it would be grand for Henryk.

But, what choice did he have?

That was how their arrangement began. Henryk became Valtr’s scout. Valtr sent Henryk out to scope out potential problems, incoming beasts, evil half-breeds, defectors, and shifters with the sickness. 

That was the one downside to normal shifters. Sometimes, they developed a sickness which began to erase their human memories one by one. It meant that the shifters had to be hospitalized and, more often than not, put out of their misery. If left unchecked, the sickness would erase the human inside entirely, and the animal would take over. It never ended well. 

Henryk could smell the sickness. Neither he nor Valtr cared why. 

He used it to help Valtr advance his own career. As long as Henryk had his privacy at the end of the day, he didn’t give a shit. 

 

-

 

Henryk had one friend, but Eileen was notoriously hard to get ahold of. Most spies were. They had a meeting spot above the aqueducts, though, and Henryk made sure to check it every once in a while for notes. The latest one he’d received had promised him a meetup in a few days so he he’d been even more antsy about checking it. It was easy enough to get to the spot, especially in his shift. That was the one good thing about it: no one suspected the stray cat wandering around. 

The third day after Henryk got the note from Eileen, he slunk through the rafters up to the balcony and found a figure leaning against the railing. The little spot was connected to a now abandoned mansion of some former aristocrat, and the balcony appeared to be a smoking perch for servants. Henryk had also found a convenient spot to nap in shift while the sun was out, nestled in a former bedroom, holes in the ceiling bathing a perfect nook in warmth. He’d even brought a blanket down to make it cozier. 

Because napping in an abandoned building was the best kind of peace he’d discovered. 

“Good to see you,” Eileen crooned. “Been a minute.”

Henryk crept through to the stack of old crates that he’d positioned long ago and changed into human form behind them, grabbing the stack of clothes that he kept there. 

“How are you doing?” Eileen asked, dutifully keeping her gaze away.

Henryk slipped on the black shirt and brown pants and stepped out, leaning his back on the railing beside her. 

“Same old,” Henryk said. “I hunt and I scout.”

Eileen glanced at him. Her bushy black hair was tied back in a bun at the base of her head. She flashed a quick smile. 

“No dates on the horizon? Dinner parties? You know, a life?”

Henryk huffed. “Hm, sounds nice.”

She chuckled. “Well, about your question…”

Of course, the real reason they’d met tonight. Henryk had heard some news and needed confirmation. 

“It’s true, they’re replacing Blithe as the Yharnam head dog. She’s getting reassigned to Old City squad, though, we all know that they really mean she’d getting demoted. That place is punishment what with the influx of beasts and that lunatic defector running around.”

“What’d she do to piss them off?” Henryk asked, though he already had his suspicions.”

“Rumors that she’d been breaking into the blood supply. Got a little starved for it.”

Henryk nodded. As shifters, consuming more of the blood used to test others brought out even more strength and power. It was forbidden to take any more than necessary. 

“They couldn’t prove for sure that she’d done it, but the rumors were enough to get her in trouble,” Eileen confirmed.

“Her replacement, though?” Henryk prompted. “A war dog?”

Eileen nodded, weaving her fingers together. “Oh, yes, he’s quite the prized pup. Heard he’s a bit of a hero. I also heard he’s a bit nuts. You’d do best to avoid him, Henryk. It’s not worth your time. He won’t be cutting you any deals. Just keep up with your suppressants and don’t cause trouble.”

Henryk took a deep breath. “I’m going to miss Blithe and her leniency.”

Another little laugh from Eileen. “That’s probably part of what got her ousted. She had a bit too many loose threads running around. I heard she was fond of half-breeds as well.”

“Maybe that’s why they sent her to Old Yharnam,” Henryk said. “Surround her with her favorite kind of people.”

Eileen shrugged. “Who’s to say? She’s on her way out and they’re bringing the new guy in. Gascoigne is his name, I think.”

Henryk racked his brain for the name, coming up blank. “How long has he been a wardog?”

“Couple of years,” Eileen told him. “Did a lot of fighting on the frontier. Not sure how he’ll settle in for civilian life.”

“Well thank you for the information,” Henryk said. 

“I don’t think I need to remind you that this meeting never happened,” Eileen said.

Henryk shook his head. 

“Well, now that business is done, tell me something new about your life,” Eileen stared back at him. “Surely something’s come up.”

Henryk gave a barely-there smile. “Valtr’s still insane. The League is tough work. I’ve read three books since the last time I saw you. This woman keeps pestering me at the bookshop, actually.”

“Oh,” Eileen’s eyes brightened. “A girl?”

Henryk glared at her. “Not my type.”

Eileen held her hands up. “I tried. Tell me, though, what  _ is _ your type? So I can keep an eye out for you.”

Henryk rolled his eyes. “Don’t have one.”

“Everybody has one,” Eileen teased. “You’re just being coy, or lying to yourself.”

Henryk grunted. “Look, no one would want to fuck around with me if they knew my shift. You know that.”

Eileen shrugged. “I don’t know, if you find the right person—”

“Hush,” Henryk said. “Tell me about you. Are you and that Cainhurst knight still circling each other?”

“‘Fraid so,” Eileen sighed. “Bastard is playing hard to get. He doesn’t seem to realize that things’ll be easier if he just asks me out sometime.”

“ _ You _ could ask  _ him _ ,” Henryk said. “I know, revolutionary concept.”

Eileen smacked Henryk’s arm. “If he’s not brave enough to come to me, I’m not interested.”

Henryk actually smiled for once. “Fair enough. Don’t waste your time on someone who can’t keep up.”

“Ah, he gets it,” Eileen smirked at him. “Good to see you, Henryk.”

“You too,” Henryk agreed. “Don’t work too hard now.”

“I’d say the same to you, but I know you wouldn’t listen.” 

Henryk laughed. 

 

-

 

The city was still getting warm at night and Henryk decided to go walking, shifted of course. He didn’t feel like talking. He rarely did. 

The moon was always so bright, and rarely did he feel scared to walk the streets in such a vulnerable form. He knew it better than most, especially the unreachable parts, roofs and alleys and nooks. That night, he kept to the shadows, stopping once by Blithe’s house to check if she was still there, but the house was dark. On her back porch sat an empty bowl. Henryk stared at it for a moment. Blithe never knew who Henryk was, only that there appeared to be a stray shifter running around. She’d taken to leaving him food. She’d convinced herself that he was stuck in the shift, and she pitied him. He let her believe it. 

A bit of sadness hit him, but he quickly dismissed it. No time for that now. He jumped from his perch on the neighboring roof and approached the bowl. He should probably just take it home with him, but that would involve shifting and running home in the nude. Not in his plans. 

As he stared at the little white and blue ceramic bowl the light in the kitchen flicked on. Henryk perked up, hoping Blithe was still in there, but he saw a man walk into the room. Henryk scurried into the shadows as the back door opened and the man stepped onto the porch, taking a deep breath.

The first thing Henryk noted was how fucking massive the man was. The second thing he noted was his bare feet. The man looked around the porch and toward the great bridge. The house was perched rather picturesquely at the river, with a beautiful view off toward no man’s land and the Cathedral Ward across the way. Henryk tensed, hidden from view by the railing, but still nervous. 

The man sniffed pointedly and then looked down at the little bowl. Another sniff and he scoffed. “Feeding the fucking cats too.”

Henryk felt the urge to hiss, but he fought it back. No need to alert the man to his presence. The other man went back inside, and Henryk couldn’t deny a bit of curiosity as he tried to peer into the house again. He wondered who this hulking man now living in Blithe’s house was. 

The door sprang open and Henryk startled, tail snapping back. The man walked forward and set the bowl down again, now full of water. He crouched, peeking in Henryk’s direction.

“Hm.” The man stood and went back inside, closing the door behind him. Henryk was surprised more than anything, slightly comforted by the knowledge that more than one person felt enough compassion to feed a stray. Henryk could smell the man’s shift lurking beneath the surface— a dog, of course.

He waited until the kitchen light went off before approaching the water bowl and drinking a little, enough to show that he had been there. 

 

-

 

The next day at the League training grounds, Henryk found a bit of a scene. Valtr was speaking to a little trio of people whose faces Henryk couldn’t see. They had Valtr standing tall, expression tilted toward anger. Henryk hurried up to Valtr, trying to catch his eye and get some kind of signal. 

“Orders from above,” the tallest man in the middle was saying. “I’m just checking in on everyone. Making sure we’re all pulling our weight.”

Valtr’s lip was almost curling in disdain. “I am more than happy to show my Confederates’ strength and dedication to the city.” He glanced over and saw Henryk, gesturing to him. “Ah, here we are, one of my very best.”

Henryk went to Valtr’s side, and looked over the three people in front of him, but his gaze stuck on the man in the middle. The same man who was living in Blithe’s house now. It must be the wardog, Gascoigne. He took Blithe’s job  _ and _ her home. 

Gascoigne looked different in the light of day, the full uniform on and his eyes wrapped. He looked like a city dog on patrol, not a man feeding stray cats. The most distinctive thing about him was the grin on his face, fierce and amused. He took one look at Henryk and opened his mouth a little. 

“You’re the best, huh?” he asked, sounding delighted. 

“One of,” Valtr responded. 

Gascoigne nodded, putting a hand on the shoulder of the man beside him. “I’d love to see him up against one of  _ my _ best. Just a little pop quiz.”

Henryk was glad that his mouth was covered, lest they see his grimace. He hated  _ proving _ himself, least of all to other shifters. Mostly he hated fighting for others’ enjoyment, and that’s what this was shaping up to be. 

“Very well,” Valtr said, catching Henryk’s eye. “Make it quick, yes? We have work to do.”

Henryk nodded. That was all the direction he needed.

“No holding back now,” Gascoigne said, letting go of the man’s shoulder. “Jozef says he’s been bored.”

Jozef rolled his shoulders and eyed Gascoigne a bit warily. The dynamic seemed off, but Henryk wasn’t there to question. Not yet, anyway. He was about to take his hunting coat off, but Jozef gave him no time, just came at Henryk with claws bared. Henryk dashed out of the way and tried to assess the situation. Jozef fought with half-shifted hands, dagger like nails protruding from fur-covered fingers. Jozef growled. Henryk got his cleaver. 

“Quickly,” Valtr reminded him from a few paces back. 

Henryk was done with this bullshit. His position was precarious enough, he didn’t need anyone questioning his ability to fight. 

So he ended things. 

When it seemed Jozef was going to wait for Henryk to make a move, he decided to speed things up. He pulled his mask down enough to whistle. 

Jozef raised an eyebrow, staring at Henryk with suspicion, body tense for anything. All three shifters looked on alert. 

Henryk whistled again. Jozef’s lip twitched. 

“C’mere boy,” Henryk said, then pulled the mask back up.

Jozef realized the taunt and came running. Henryk bounced on his feet, studying the way he ran, looking for the right opening. It came with Jozef’s wild swing toward Henryk’s throat. Henryk was good at fighting. Very good. So good that sometimes his mind entered a haze and he lost track of his own movements. It wasn’t a shifter thing as far as he could tell, just a Henryk thing.

Henryk heard Jozef’s pained cry and refocused on the man hunched over on the floor, clutching his arm. 

Henryk smiled at his work, glad no one could see. He didn’t mind going a bit overboard when fighting shifters. Most of them were assholes and they healed faster anyway. Valtr walked up beside Henryk and looked back at Gascoigne. 

“Are we done here?”

Gascoigne’s lips were still set in that smile. “Oh, yes, we’re done here. Thank you kindly, Master Valtr. Jozef, get yourself up now.”

The other man pulled himself off the floor and shuffled after Gascoigne, muttering curses. 

“Bit much, don’t you think?” Valtr asked, turning away.

“You said quickly,” Henryk remarked, arms crossed. 

“The teasing, though, you know they hate that,” Valtr said, but Henryk could hear the smile in his voice. “May as well have held a treat out for him.”

Henryk glanced backward one more time, only to catch Gascoigne doing the exact same thing. Henryk turned away. 

“You want my report?”

“Of course,” Valtr said. 

Henryk gave Eileen’s info to Valtr, most of which Valtr was able to confirm himself, except for one thing. 

“You think he’s a dog?” Valtr asked, pushing open the door to his office. 

Henryk nodded. “So I’ve heard.”

“Mm,” Valtr licked the inside of his cheek. “I think he’s a wolf.”

Henryk’s eyes widened a bit. “Yeah?”

Valtr nodded. “Carries himself a bit different than a dog. I’ve known enough of them to see.”

Henryk narrowed his eyes. “Wolves are rare. Can’t imagine they’d send one of their top shifts off to fight in the frontier. Aren’t they all about preserving the strongest?”

Valtr shrugged, giving him a deadpan look. “He must have asked.”

Henryk tried to make sense of this, but all it seemed to say was that Eileen was correct. Gascoigne was nuts.

“Great,” Henryk sighed. “We traded a dog for a wolf.”

Valtr chuckled. “What fun we have in store now.”


	2. Chapter 2

Henryk understood why Eileen had warned him about Gascoigne— clearly the man had a screw loose. Still, Valtr had asked Henryk to keep an eye out. Valtr wanted to find out both what kind of shift he was, and what kind of person he was. Gascoigne was Valtr’s superior, so it made sense to Henryk to keep one ear to the ground.

This resulted in him returning, shifted, to Gascoigne’s house to check the water bowl. It had been cleaned and refilled. Henryk tried to marry the image of the grinning man watching him fight to the same man who would care for a stray cat. 

The kitchen light flicked on again and Henryk backed away from the bowl, but stayed out where he could be seen. It didn’t really matter if Gascoigne saw his shift. It wasn’t like Henryk would ever let Gascoigne know who he really was. 

Heavy steps announced Gascoigne before he showed up in the doorway. He eyed Henryk and pushed the door open. 

“There you are,” Gascoigne said. He pushed a hand through his chin-length white hair and crouched down. Henryk could see the vibrant blue irises that had been hidden before. Eye wraps were reserved for powerful shifters— it was a sign of strength to dampen your own sight as a human. 

“You’re fucking small. No wonder you come out here for water.”

Henryk wanted to respond that he wasn’t small due to starvation, just bad luck. Instead he merely flicked his tail.

Gascoigne tilted his head. “No collar. Did you run away from someone?”

Henryk wanted to roll his eyes. Why did everyone feel the need to converse with animals that couldn’t respond? 

“Fuck, why am I talking to a cat?” Gascoigne gave a little laugh, scrubbing the stubble around his jaw. He rose back up and gave Henryk another look. “I’ll get food for you tomorrow. Sorry I don’t have any now.”

Gascoigne held Henryk’s gaze for a moment. He took a deep breath, head tilted up toward the sky.

“I hate the damn rain,” he mumbled before heading back inside. 

 

-

 

If Gascoigne hated the rain, Henryk wanted to murder it. Even with several layers of clothing and his hat, the slightest bit of rainwater on his skin annoyed him. The cling of wet fabric felt disgusting and the smell was overpowering. It forced him to shift his senses just to keep them at a normal level. That was something not even Valtr knew about— Henryk’s ability to partially shift at will.

Eileen made fun of him for it.  _ You can take a shower just fine, you’ll even take a bloody bath, but the rain just sets your hackles up, huh? _

Henryk hustled through the city to the League headquarters. One time, the younger Madaras twin tried to convince Henryk that running through the rain would actually get you more wet and that you should walk at a steady pace instead. Something about the tilt of your body. Henryk wanted to punch him. 

When Henryk got inside the old home that had been converted into Valtr’s meeting house, he was already in a bad mood. Seeing the smiling face of Gascoigne across the room completely threw him. 

“Henry, wasn’t it?” Gascoigne asked. He was leaning against the railing of the stairs like he belonged there.

Coat in hand, Henryk glanced around, but no one else was in the entryway. Henryk felt the urge to put his coat back on, something to hide behind, but he didn’t want to look suspicious so he finished hanging it and faced Gascoigne. 

“Henryk,” he corrected, emphasizing the ‘k’ at the end. “You?”

Gascoigne crossed the room in three long strides and held his hand out. “Ah, yes, we didn’t formally meet, did we? You can call me Gascoigne. I took over for Blithe as Captain for Yharnam.”

Gascoigne’s voice was full of smoke and gave the impression that he was telling Henryk a secret, which Henryk wasn’t too fond of. On anyone else he might think it nice, but coupled with Gascoigne’s smirk, it grated. 

“Heard she got herself into trouble,” Henryk said. 

Gascoigne nodded. “Didn’t quite take the job seriously.”

“You’re gonna change that?” Henryk asked. 

“Doing my best,” Gascoigne said. “I’ve only been here a week, but I’m trying to reorganize things. Make the best of what this place has to offer.”

Henryk wanted to ask why the hell Gascoigne was talking to  _ him  _ about this. Henryk was definitely not the best Yharnam had to offer, and certainly in no position to be shooting the shit with the top hunter. 

“Good luck,” Henryk said, hoping that was the end of it. 

“Actually, that’s what brought me here,” Gascoigne continued. “I was very impressed by your display yesterday.”

Henryk stiffened.  _ Shit. _ “Thank you.”

“You made it look effortless,” Gascoigne went on. “Jozef will be out of commision for a little while. Rather remarkable for a non-shifter.”

Henryk called up his typical response. “I’ve been practicing for a while now.”

“Yes, I did some looking into you,” Gascoigne said, crossing his arms. “Joined the League at twenty two. Very young for such a tough group. And now you’re ranked top among them at twenty seven. Skilled enough to take down shifters in a matter of seconds.”

Henryk’s heart was pounding. Was this it? Did he go too far and out himself? 

“Have you considered a different job?” Gascoigne asked. 

Henryk stared hard at the man’s wrapped eyes, still wondering if this was some kind of trap. “I didn’t think a different job would consider  _ me _ .”

The smirk was back on Gascoigne’s lips. “I believe I could find a use for someone as fierce as you in my own unit.”

This was not how Henryk expected the conversation to go. Eyebrow raised, he pressed. “You’d take a non-shifter into your employ?”

“I’d take an excellent fighter,” Gascoigne clarified.

“Something tells me the higher-ups wouldn’t like that,” Henryk went on. 

Gascoigne shrugged. “I’ve got some sway of my own.”

How hard was he going to try? Henryk wondered how far he could leverage this. Better salary? Nicer place? Working beside shifters who would give him shit for what they thought he was and a higher risk of discovery? 

“Thanks, but I’m doing alright as is,” Henryk said. “I appreciate the offer, though.”

Gascoigne’s face was unreadable with his eyes covered, his mouth neutral. “Why don’t you take a few days to think on it?” he said. “Quick decisions aren’t always the right ones.”

Henryk almost laughed but denied it. “Fine, then. I’ll think on synonyms for ‘no thank you’.”

Gascoigne grinned at that. “I await your response.”

 

-

 

Valtr laughed outright when Henryk told him about Gascoigne’s offer. “He really is nuts.”

“Do you think he knows?” Henryk asked quietly.

Valtr shook his head. “Oh, no, you’d have been taken away already if he knew.”

These words were not particularly comforting. Henryk folded his arms, glancing at the window. Daytime always felt unnaturally bright in a place that prized the nighttime and the power it brought.

“You know,” Valtr said, tapping his fingers on his desk. “Might be useful to have you as a double agent.”

Henryk’s eyes widened. “You’re not serious.”

Valtr looked at him. “How do we know this man is to be trusted? It might be wise to keep him by your side. Not to mention it would put you closer to the higher-ups. Quite a cozy spot.”

“No,” Henryk said, standing up straight. “I’m not putting myself at risk like that just because you want information.”

Valtr looked back at his desk. “Just a passing thought. No need to dwell on it. Anyway, I have a mission for you. It might busy you for a night or so.”

“I’ll cancel my plans,” Henryk deadpanned. 

That night, Henryk was in his shift, headed toward Hemwick as the sun sank beneath the treeline. He’d created a story long ago of family two towns over in Loran. It excused his absences when Valtr had him on these longer journeys, and, to some people, explained his dry, unwelcoming demeanor. 

The path to Hemwick was sort of beautiful in the fresh moonlight, but creeping through the woods outside of the gates to the village, Henryk could smell body odor and gunpowder. People had been told some time ago that Hemwick was condemned. They said that something about that place was cursed. 

He found the gate without problem. Once he’d slipped past the doors, he stopped, gaze drawn to a massive fire. There was a building, worse for wear, but judging by the lamp glowing by the door, occupied by someone. Henryk made for the building, lurking outside the perimeter, trying to listen in. All he heard was a woman crying, or perhaps laughing. He didn’t know which was worse. 

Pressing on, more and more people cropped up, silent for the most part, all headed in the same direction. A house on a hill seemed to beckon them. Most of them were women, but a few large, lumbering men carrying weapons accompanied them. Henryk wasn’t too concerned, until he spotted the dogs. 

Shifters, but something was off. They didn’t carry the same scent, and they had odd looks in their eyes. Something hollow and mean. Henryk hung back, but it wasn’t enough. One of the dogs set off, barking and searching for Henryk. He climbed the nearest tree, hoping the dog would lose interest. 

It took a minute, but the dog calmed as its guide screamed at it to keep moving. The procession kept along. It was too risky for him to follow with those shifters around, so he waited until they were out of sight to head back. 

Except, in his panic, he had climbed a rather tall tree. Every time he thought he found a good way down, it suddenly seemed far too high to jump and he gave up. Ten minutes of hemming and hawing, Henryk hissed at his own idiocy.  

A cat stuck in a tree. Of course. 

He forced himself to make a jump out of annoyance, then missed the branch he was aiming for and fell to the ground. ‘Course he landed on his feet, but he that didn’t stop him from catching his front left paw at an angle. Some fucking cat he was. 

It took him twice as long to limp home. As least he’d seen something worth seeing. 

When he shifted back to human form, he gritted his teeth as pain flooded through his left wrist. Worse than he thought. Pain was harder to diagnose in shift, and the transformation back could exacerbate injuries. It would definitely heal faster in his other form.

Bracing himself, he quickly returned to his shift and curled up in the nest of blankets he kept on the floor by his bed. Henryk didn’t like cat hair in his sheets, even if it was  _ his _ cat hair. 

A few hours went by and he slunk out to the kitchen for water, and realized he couldn’t get to it. He didn’t want to risk making his wrist worse by turning, and the pain was bearable as it was, so he set out, knowing where he might be able to get water. 

Gascoigne’s house was pretty close.

And it was another opportunity to spy.

When Henryk got to Gascoigne’s porch, there was water out for him. He wondered what Gascoigne’s fondness for cats was while drinking nearly the whole bowl. The rising sun was bringing warmth with it and Henryk felt sleepy again, so he curled up in a sunspot and slept again. 

He woke to the sound of the door, springing back to his feet. 

“Back again,” Gascoigne said, looking down at Henryk with a little smile. He saw the bowl and scooped it up. “And thirsty. Hold on.”

Gascoigne went back inside and filled the bowl, setting it back down. Henryk padded over and took another drink.

“You’re favoring the right,” Gascoigne noted, crouching down. “You take a fall?”

Henryk almost paused, but reminded himself to keep up the facade. 

“Sorry I don’t know medicine.”

Henryk stopped drinking and sat down to look at Gascoigne’s face. The man was closer than before, and Henryk found himself staring at his eyes. Unnaturally blue. He wondered if it was a wolf thing. Henryk had never met a wolf before, and certainly never seen one without the wraps. Most wolves were kept away from the public, essentially treated as royalty. Gascoigne was no prince, but Henryk did see some handsomeness in his face. A strong, proud man holding himself tall. Here, without the many layers of the uniform, it was clear how muscular  Gascoigne was. 

Gascoigne reached a massive hand out. Henryk stiffened. Blithe never tried this with him. She pitied him more than anything. Gascoigne was apparently even more presumptuous than Henryk thought, trying to pet a stray cat like it was his. He stopped short though, turning his hand up and waiting. 

Henryk debated. He could run, a pretty normal thing for a cat to do. Still, he kind of wanted Gascoigne to keep leaving water out. 

Telling himself it was for the purpose of spying, Henryk approached him and touched the side of his face to Gascoigne’s hand. Gascoigne let out a little triumphant laugh and curled his fingers under Henryk’s chin. 

“Does anyone do this for you?” Gascoigne asked. 

His touch was surprisingly gentle as he used his index finger to stroke between Henryk’s eyes, then down his back. Henryk hated both of them for a moment as he arched into the petting. What the hell was he doing? He was  _ not _ a house cat,  _ not  _ someone’s pet, but,  _ oh _ , it felt good. His damn tail seemed to act independently, curling around Gascoigne’s wrist as he Henryk let the other man pet him. 

Because the answer was no.

Nobody touched him. 

It was the sound of large wings flapping that startled Henryk out of his reverie. Realizing what he was doing and feeling like an idiot twice in one day, he scampered back to his house. 

 

-

 

Valtr was pleased and troubled by Henryk’s findings. 

“That many people can’t mean anything good,” he noted. “I’ll have to report it to Blit– to Gascoigne,” Valtr caught himself.

“Have fun,” Henryk said. It still felt like the top hunter was actually two different people— the one who wore the uniform, and the one who fed stray cats. 

“Oh you’ll be coming with me,” Valtr said. “I know he’s got his eye on you now. Your support will guarantee that we get this mission.”

Henryk deflated. “Come on, I’ve had a long day. My wrist is still messed up.”

“Cry to someone who cares,” Valtr responded, grabbing his coat. “We have places to be.”

Henryk made a quiet fuss but he still followed Valtr out of the League office to hail a carriage to the Cathedral Ward. The rooms below Oedon Chapel were typically where they found Blithe when they needed her, so it stood to reason that Gascoigne would be there as well. When the chapel attendant informed them that Gascoigne was out training in the courtyard, both Henryk and Valtr were surprised. 

“Training for what?” Henryk asked, but Valtr was already herding him toward the exit. 

“We can ask ourselves,” Valtr said. 

They stepped out behind the chapel to find a group of shifters perched around the edges of a courtyard. Everyone was watching Gascoigne and a dog squaring off. The dog had brown fur speckled with white spots, and sharp green eyes searching for an opening. Gascoigne was still human, grinning, watching. He was only dressed in loose black pants, something easy to kick off in case he needed to shift.   

The scent of the dog made Henryk wrinkle his nose — such a distinct smell of fur and sweat. It distracted him only a moment before Gascoigne interrupted his thoughts. 

“If you can’t beat me in human form, how do you expect to face me in shift?” he asked the dog. It wasn’t necessarily a taunt, more an honest question. The dog growled and inched closer. Gascoigne had his white hair pulled up into a bun, though a few strands had come undone, framing his strong face. This was more of the royal look that Henryk would have expected, save for the bare chest. 

Yes, he was a war dog for sure. Henryk pried his gaze from Gascoigne’s muscles, attempting to observe neutrally, but every time Gascoigne moved it drew his eye. Henryk wanted to disappear. This was not how he was meant to react. God, he hated it — the way he sometimes felt watching other men fight. It was bad enough that he was some disgrace of a shifter, but to have these inclinations on top of that. 

Henryk had resigned himself to a solitary life long ago, but that didn’t make the ache go away. The memory of Gascoigne’s hand softly petting him in shift crept in and goosebumps swept over him. He tensed, balling his hands up, as the sound of growling rose up behind him. Henryk turned to see another dog hanging by the gates surrounding the courtyard. Henryk unconsciously reached for his saw cleaver holstered to his back. The dog snapped at Henryk’s movements and Henryk switched, going for the knife at his belt and held it low, waiting to see if the dog would dare try something here. 

The dog took a step forward and Henryk shifted his stance, angling away. 

A heavy hand on his shoulder startled him and he nearly dropped the knife. Gascoigne leaned down beside him, staring at the growling dog. 

“Jozef,” Gascoigne warned, smile splitting a little too far, like he was mere moments away from shifting. His breathing and his voice were low in Henryk’s ear. “What did I say?”

The dog backed up, laying down and resting his head on his paws. 

Gascoigne stood up straight, releasing Henryk. “He’s been a little moody since you broke his arm.”

Henryk sheathed the knife, heart pounding. The smell coming off Gascoigne was a bit distracting, a combination of human and animal. “Apologies.”

Gascoigne smiled at Henryk. “Have you reconsidered my offer?”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Henryk said, stepping aside for Valtr. 

“Ah, League Master,” Gascoigne said, holding his hand out. 

Valtr shook Gascoigne’s hand briefly. “I would say good afternoon, but I have some unsettling news for you.”

Gascoigne’s smile faded fast, glancing between Henryk and Valtr. “What is it?”

“Reports of activity in Hemwick,” Valtr said, hands clasped behind his back. “I fear it may not be as abandoned as we once thought.”

Gascoigne absorbed this and gestured to the chapel. “Let’s talk inside.”

Valtr and Henryk headed for the door, but Gascoigne hung back, addressing the dog he’d been about to fight. Gascoigne nodded at them, voice calmer. “You’re improving.”

Valtr and Henryk waited for him in the library beneath the chapel. Gascoigne came in with all his clothes on this time, accompanied by two other hunters.

“Alright, what have you heard?” Gascoigne asked. 

“As you may know,” Valtr began. “I have many scouts who report to me. While I don’t make it my job to infiltrate restricted areas—”

“Diplomacy aside, League Master,” Gascoigne said, waving his hand. “I don’t give a shit how you found out. Just tell me.”

Valtr quirked one eyebrow and nodded. “Very well. Many people have taken up residence at Hemwick, and they’re armed. It seems like something is in progress. Something I don’t like. And there are shifters out there.”

Gascoigne made a displeased noise, glancing at the woman beside him. “Henriett, can you get some people together? I think we should pay a visit.”

She nodded. “Of course.”

“Excellent,” Gascoigne looked back at Valtr, who seemed ready to say something, but Gascoigne spoke faster. “Get three men ready. We’ll do this one jointly. I don’t want to wait on something like this. Is tonight too soon for your people?”

Valtr actually smiled. “We are always ready, Hunter.”

Gascoigne returned the pleased look. “We’ll take care of this. Quickly.”

As they left for Central Yharnam, Valtr spoke in earshot of Gascoigne and Henryk wondered if it was on purpose. 

“You’ll be leading this one,” Valtr said. “I’m indisposed for the evening, but I trust you.”

Henryk just nodded. 

 

-

 

It was new to join up with shifters for a mission. The Confederates were a little uneasy on the ride over to the Cathedral Ward, but Henryk assured them all that they just had to fight like they always did and it would be fine. 

“Do we defer to them? Isn’t this  _ our _ mission?” The younger Madaras twin asked. 

Henryk looked out the window. “Just don’t piss them off. It’ll be fine.”

When they got there, Henryk wasn’t the least bit surprised to see Gascoigne, axe strapped to his back, pistol at his belt, standing outside with three of his shifters. Henryk and his own three Confederates approached.

“We’ll do this in pairs,” Gascoigne said. “Which means you’re with me, leader.”

Henryk wasn’t even shocked enough to be annoyed. He wanted this over as fast as the others did. “Heard.”

“Let’s head out.”

The eight of them took the path to Hemwick quickly. As soon as they hit the woods between Yharnam and Hemwick, the other three shifters crouched and changed, matching up to the Confederate closest to them, sending a ripple of unease through the humans. Gascoigne rolled his shoulders and looked at Henryk.

“Have you fought beside a shifter before?”

Henryk shook his head. 

“I won’t unless I need to,” Gascoigne warned. “Until then, we’ll be hunting partners.”

Henryk couldn’t resist asking, “how long have you trained to fight with that axe?”

“I like to know how to fight no matter what the situation calls for,” Gascoigne answered. “Don’t worry. You can count on me.”

Henryk nodded and looked back at the Confederates, most of them eyeing up their dog counterparts. “Relax,” he told them. “Fight  _ with _ , not against.”

The gates to Hemwick were rusted shut, but Gascoigne made short work of the lock with the axe. He looked at Henryk, as if considering the obvious question  _ how did Valtr discover this _ , but didn’t ask. They entered in their pairs, getting closer and quieter with their steps.

“From what I’ve heard,” Henryk said quietly. “There’s a house up the hill where they congregate. I think that’ll be the source of the problem.”

Gascoigne nodded. “Let’s see what they’re hiding.”

Silence fell and the group moved forward. Henryk was wary that they didn’t see any of the same procession that had given him trouble. The fire wasn’t burning either. No crying or laughing. Briefly, under the cover of his mask, he allowed a small shift to his senses, seeing if he could pick up on any shifters in the area, that same weird scent that he’d picked up on before, but there was nothing. 

Another set of gates barred their progress a little further up, but again, Gascoigne’s axe served well enough as a key. The sound of metal on metal was deafening and Henryk stiffened. If anyone were here, they’d certainly know about this little hunting party by now. 

The house was clearly visible, and Henyk was getting worried that this mission was a complete waste of time when he caught a whiff of burning on the wind. They moved forward toward the house, something acrid rising up around them. Henryk kept his senses shifted to stay alert. Gascoigne and he moved quietly, or as quietly as Gascoigne _ could _ move. The man was a bit much for stealth, and Henryk was getting a little wary of partnering with such a person. Still, there was no obvious sign of threat at the moment. 

One of the dogs started growling. Henryk followed its gaze to a decrepit windmill tilting to one side. Lamplight spilled from one of the windows. 

“Henriett,” Gascoigne hissed, gesturing. 

An auburn dog gave a quiet acknowledgement and nudged the hand of the Confederate beside her. The two of them set off toward the windmill, the Confederate drawing her whip. As the rest of them waited, Henryk caught something else and spun around beside them. A flash of red in the air. He narrowed his eyes, switching his eyesight briefly. 

A shrouded woman stood by the broken gate, cloaked and hunched, staring at the group. Innocuous at first, until she drew a knife, mouth slack and eyes sunken. Henryk knew she was disguised somehow and didn’t want to out himself by admitting he could see something that the others couldn’t, but then she howled. That was enough of a direction for Henryk and he pointed at the exact spot, gesturing for the closest Confederate and paired black dog.

“Go!”

The two of them went, the dog now able to pick up on the woman’s scent. Henryk didn’t have time to watch how it played out. Another flash of red caught his eye in front of them. Gascoigne saw it too and they both turned toward it. Another howling scream issued from the windmill, identical to the cloaked woman’s.

Finally, Henryk caught that rotten shifter scent. It was coming from the house and it was approaching fast. He saw three dogs running for them. 

“There,” he muttered. 

Gascoigne nodded, drawing his axe. “Everyone else, stay on these witches. Henryk and I will take the shifters.”

Henryk felt that haze coming on, something tugging at his mind, telling him to let go and fight how he pleased, but he remembered that he was now meant to partner with Gascoigne. He had to be more aware to be useful to someone else. 

The two of them set off to meet the dogs. Henryk only stumbled twice while trying to match up to Gascoigne. All it took to smooth things over was Gascoigne shouting, “you’re faster! Take the lead! But keep one alive.” The fight was over quickly.

It instantly cleared things up. Henryk  _ was _ faster, and he slashed with the cleaver without hesitation, catching the dogs as they tried to slip by, probably trying to protect the witches. Gascoigne hung back, the wide swing of the axe serving as a stop gate and sending the dogs right back to Henryk. As instructed, Henryk left one alive. Gascoigne pinned it down to the earth and held his axe to its throat. 

“Do you think he’s got any human left?” Gascoigne asked Henryk.

The dog started snapping at them. 

Henryk took a deep breath, studied the scent and the look of the dog. “If he does, he’s ignoring it.”

Gascoigne sighed. “I never understand shifters who choose to let go of humanity.” 

He raised the axe. Henryk looked away. He didn’t need to see an execution. 

The rest of the hunting party had reassembled, nobody injured, but everyone confused. 

“Where the hell did she go?” one of the Confederates asked. “She keeps phasing in and out.”

“This way,” Gascoigne commanded.

The eight of them didn’t bother with stealth as they headed up to the house. It smelled like spoiled meat. There were bodies everywhere, wrapped up and piled by the walls, hanging from the ceiling. Henryk breathed through his mouth, but he could taste it too. 

“Unholy,” Gascoigne muttered. “They’re all shifters.”

Henryk glanced at Gascoigne but couldn’t get a read on him. He went to the nearest body, half uncovered. The eyes had been gouged out. Another body beside that one had the same wounds. 

“Someone’s removing their eyes,” Henryk said, looking back at Gascoigne.

The man was still for a moment, staring up at the bodies hanging from the ceiling. Some of them still dripped with blood. 

“I’ve seen enough.”

When they headed outside again, the largest man Henryk had ever seen stood in their path, weilding an axe of his own. 

“That pistol of yours,” Henryk said to Gascoigne. “Is it just for show?”

Gascoigne smirked, reaching for the gun. “You read my mind.”

It was easy. All Henryk had to do was bait out the armored man, get him to swing and Gascoigne got the shot off easy, stunning him. Henryk finished the job with the cleaver. 

They didn’t meet anyone else on their way back out. 

Back at the Yharnam city border, the shifters all changed to human form, grabbing the clothes they’d left behind. Gascoigne finally put his axe back and gave Henryk a smile, approaching the hunter leaning against a tree. Henryk loosened his mask, taking a full breath of clean air.

“You have to admit we fight well together,” Gascoigne said.

“I can hear your footsteps from a mile away,” Henryk responded. “As long as we’re out here stating facts.”

Gascoigne laughed. Henryk caught a moment of a genuine smile, more like the man on the porch than the hunter. Henryk huffed, tightening the mask again, afraid of smiling when he shouldn’t. There was still a bit of wild in the curve of Gascoigne’s lips and Henryk didn’t want to show his own. The mission was over and hopefully things would quiet down for Henryk again. No need to dwell on a one-time partnership, the lovely way their fighting meshed, and the smell of Gascoigne’s shift lurking at the edges. 

He smelled good. 

The man  _ and _ the wolf. 


	3. Chapter 3

A full scale investigation into Hemwick launched the next day. There were no traces of the witches, but the bodies were enough. Valtr was praised as usual for his impeccable leads and Henryk was given a week’s leave as reward. He used at least part of every day to train at the League headquarters regardless. He was angry. 

Gascoigne was stuck in his brain like a bullet too deep to remove. So Henryk fought it off during the day and, despite everything, he showed up on the porch at night. Gascoigne had taken to leaving cooked fish out for Henryk. It was a bit cliché, but Henryk didn’t mind. Not like he could make requests at that point. The first night, Henryk missed the shifter entirely. The second night was a repeat of the petting incident. Gascoigne was a little braver, twirling Henryk’s tail around his fingers, scratching behind his ears. Henryk gave in, leaning into it, encouraging more. He didn’t care, not with his fur being smoothed down like that. 

“What part of vacation do you not understand?” Valtr asked on the third day as Henryk showed up for another round with the twins, angry all over again.

Henryk shrugged. Valtr walked up close to him and pointed upwards. “If it's this bad before the full moon actually rises…” 

Henryk huffed. “It’ll be fine.”

Valtr  _ tut _ ’d at him and walked off. 

_ Shit _ . Henryk had forgotten. That night he went to his meeting spot with Eileen. She was usually good, even when he wasn’t, but all he found was a note that read  _ off on a long one, love. good luck ~E _

Henryk stared at the note for a while, stunned. This was entirely his fault. He’d been too distracted to remember to ask for more aconite. Shifters were only allowed a certain amount per month, and Eileen had to be very careful about acquiring enough for her  _ and  _ Henryk. Considering her shift, she didn’t usually need much herself, so the bulk of her stash went to Henryk anyway, but… 

“Fuck,” he breathed, looking up at the moon. 

Of course. 

No wonder he’d been so desperate for a fight and for the petting. His shift was getting antsy. Henryk thanked whoever was listening that his week off coincided nicely with the full moon, but he was still pissed that he’d been so thoughtless. 

He headed back home, but paused at the foot of the bridge. Maybe being in shift for the full moon would be a relief. Maybe it would be easier to handle. He’d never gotten this opportunity. He returned home, setting out a bunch of water and dry food that wouldn’t go bad, then shifted, stretching out and curling up to sleep. 

It was fine for a while. In shift like this, he found he could sleep for much longer than he could as a human. But then he got bored. The craving for contact set in and he couldn’t sleep. He just wanted to be touched. It didn’t matter how or why. A punch would have sufficed as well as a hug.

Venturing out, Henryk knew he was cursed, but that didn’t stop him from showing up at Gascoigne’s. It was an odd time of day and Henryk waited on the porch for a while before the shifter showed up. Henryk, as shameless as he had become, was sitting right in front of the glass door that lead inside. Gascoigne saw the little shadow outside and smiled through his obvious fatigue.

Opening the door, he gave a small laugh. “Just come inside.”

Henryk bolted through the door. This was good. It was warm inside and Henryk had been curious what it looked like. Gascoigne grabbed the water bowl from outside, filled it and set it down on the kitchen floor. Henryk was too busy exploring the house though, checking it for other signs of life.

“If you’re looking for a roommate, I don’t have one,” Gascoigne said, leaning in the doorway. Henryk scoped out the living room (cozy and inviting, newly lit fire), bedroom (the door was closed), dining room (bit of a mess) and bathroom (presentable). Satisfied, Henryk returned to Gascoigne, deciding to speed up this process and push up against his leg. 

Gascoigne chuckled quietly and knelt down. Henryk was ready for a hand on his back, not two hands scooping him up off the ground. 

“You’re in my house,” Gascoigne said, striding over to the kitchen counter. “I get one favor.”

Henryk didn’t struggle. This worked, nestled up against Gascoigne’s chest, breathing in his scent. The shift was always present underneath his human smell— it was only a matter of percentages. That night, Gascoigne was half human, carrying Henryk in one hand and getting himself a drink with the other. 

“Don’t judge,” Gascoigne said, sipping some alcohol that Henryk couldn’t identify. “The moon’s coming and I’ve been working too much.”

He took the glass and the cat with him to the living room, settling into an armchair and letting Henryk go. Henryk stayed close, pushing his head against Gascoigne’s arm. Gascoigne laughed quietly and started lazily petting Henryk again. It was the scratching at the base of Henryk’s spine that got him purring. He didn’t notice at first, until Gascoigne commented, “good to know you’re having a nice time.”

Henryk heard himself and wanted to die. Never in his life. 

But Gascoigne kept at it and Henryk melted.

He wondered if it would feel just as good on his human body. That required imagining Gascoigne and him alone somewhere, Gascoigne touching his bare skin. 

When Henryk caught himself kneading Gascoigne’s leg he told himself he’d had enough of this nonsense. Half-drunk from the petting, he pulled himself up and caught the look on Gascoigne’s face. 

The shift was rising up in him. Gascoigne glanced down at Henryk and sighed. “Alright, little guy. You should get out of here. Not sure a cat’ll be safe around me tonight.”

Henryk jumped off him, smelling the animal stirring inside Gascoigne. The shifter opened the back door for Henryk and locked it behind him. Henryk took another look at Gascoigne before he left. 

Eyes so bright, they almost glowed. Henryk was usually put off by the smell of a dog about to shift, but something in the air was a bit more intoxicating. It made him want to stay, to get close again and bury himself in Gascoigne’s scent. He wanted more contact, more soft words no one else could hear, more goddamn pets.

But he forced himself away, because this was not what he should be doing. 

Henryk itched when he got home. He told himself to stay in shift, because it seemed like the easiest thing to do, but after pacing the length of the house three times, he knew he was in trouble. He was much too warm and much too restless. All he could think about was how good it was to be touched. After a minute of trying to rub himself up against the edge of the coffee table, he broke down and shifted back. 

Human again and desperate, he took a bath. 

This pain was new. This need. Curled up in a few inches of hot water, Henryk was panting. He saw Gascoigne’s grin and felt his hands and heard his laughter. The base of his spine ached where he’d been scratched. 

Henryk jerked off until he could barely breathe. It wasn’t something he liked to do, mostly just an occasional way to let off steam when he got frustrated. It was never this direct. It was never because a specific person had him worked up. This time was different. Everything about Gascoigne was different. 

A shifter he could never have. 

 

-

 

Henryk slept for eighteen hours. 

Valtr eyed him up when he returned for his sparring, almost smiling at Henryk. “Finally found something to entertain yourself with?”

Henryk gave him the finger and pushed on to the training rooms. Inside, he was calm again. He admitted to himself that he’d been pent up for a while and he just needed a little help cooling down. It wasn’t Gascoigne himself, it was just the opportunity. Convenience. 

‘Course, when Gascoigne showed up at the League the next day asking after Henryk, his flimsy excuses fell apart. Even if he hadn’t spent the last night touching himself and thinking about Gascoigne’s hands, he would have been riled up by Gascoigne watching him spar. 

“Don’t stop on my account,” the shifter called from the door. “Finish your session.”

Henryk was up against the older Madaras twin, throwing punches and trying not to get distracted by the new set of eyes on his back. He let the other Confederate get a few good shots in before he shut it down, getting the twin into a chokehold on the floor of the training room. The twin tapped Henryk’s arm and they broke apart, Henryk offering a hand to the twin, who just shook his head a few times. 

“Don’t go on vacation again,” the twin said, taking a deep breath. “You get mean when you’re on vacation.”

Henryk let him be and went to Gascoigne in the doorway. The shifter smiled, taking a deep breath, and Henryk wondered if his own scent got to Gascoigne at all. It was a stupid thought, to hope Gascoigne would care at all about something like that. 

“Can I help you?” Henryk asked. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were on vacation,” Gascoigne said, looking over Henryk’s shoulder once, raising an eyebrow. “I can come back another time.”

“It’s fine,” Henryk said, voice brisk. 

“Well,” Gascoigne acquiesced. “I was hoping to borrow you again.”

Henryk was done being surprised by Gascoigne, so he just said, “for what?”

“A little mission,” Gascoigne said, lips curling down. “You look like you need water, I can tell you somewhere else.”

Henryk sniffed. “Yeah, fine.”

He pushed past Gascoigne, heading for the nearest bathroom and sink. He splashed water on his face and then gestured at Gascoigne to keep talking. Gascoigne looked a little alarmed, watching Henryk drink water from his cupped hands. All of a sudden it felt like Henryk was dying of thirst. 

“Is it Hemwick?” Henryk prompted before taking another drink.

“Are you alright?” Gascoigne asked.

Henryk wanted to hit him. “Yes, thank you.”

“Are you sure? You seem a little—”

“I’m fine,” Henryk snapped, leaning heavily on the sink. “Out with it.”

“You don’t seem fine,” Gascoigne pressed, taking a step closer. Henryk had the urge to lash out, or maybe just to meet him in the middle and see what happened. Gascoigne smelled good,  _ really _ good, something like warmth and wine. Henryk knew deep down that it must have been the cycle of the full moon bringing something out in Gascoigne, and Henryk was just picking up on it, but  _ oh _ , it went straight to his head. 

The room slowly began to spin and Henryk felt a wave of nausea catch him the wrong way.

“Henryk,” Gascoigne said his name but Henryk could only focus on swallowing and not passing out. 

The shifter snapped his fingers in front of Henryk’s face. The last thing Henryk processed was Gascoigne touching his shoulder and saying, “easy now.”

 

-

 

Henryk woke up in the League infirmary, head swimming and body uncomfortably warm. He stared up at the ceiling, cursing himself repeatedly. Never again would he let the full moon catch him by surprise. This was pathetic.

It was nighttime and the room was bathed in moonlight. Henryk sat up, pulling the sheets off. The fabric felt like rough wool on him— too scratchy, too warm. He tried to get comfortable again, but couldn’t settle down. The moon was so bright, burning him up in bed. God, was it going to be like this for the next two nights? 

The door opened and Henryk glanced over to see a nurse enter the room. Adella perked up when she saw Henryk. “Oh! Feeling better?”

Henryk just noncommittally shrugged. 

She smiled. “You always had a way with words. Do you need anything?”

“Water would be nice,” he managed through a dry throat.

“I can do that,” she said. “Someone came by today to give you a letter, by the way. Here.”

She set the envelope on the bedside table and went to get him water. Henryk took the letter, recognized his name written in that sloped handwriting, and let out a sigh of relief. Adella returned with a full glass and asked him again how he was. 

“Fine,” he said. “I’ve just been training too much. Not taking care of myself.”

She nodded. “I’ll say. Get some more rest, alright?”

When she had shut the door behind her, Henryk tore open the envelope. Three small pills dropped onto the bed and he scrambled to pick them back up. He took one immediately, washing it down with the cool water, and then stowed the other two in the pocket of his coat which someone had draped across the headboard. 

Relaxing into the bed, he thanked Eileen in his head and let the poison set in. He dreamed, as he always did on aconite, of running far and fast in a body that wasn’t his.

When he woke up the next day, it was like nothing had happened, save for a slight ache in his stomach. Adella dismissed him with instruction that Captain Gascoigne wanted to see him when he was well again. 

Valtr gave Henryk a stern talking to about discretion which Henryk mostly tuned out. He knew better than Valtr would ever know. 

They let him go home, and he didn’t tell them that he felt well enough to go back to sparring please, instead sentencing himself to a day spent reading in his house. He was restless for sure, but not enough to go back to Gascoigne. Not yet.

The last day of his leave, he did go back. Just to say hello.

Gascoigne let him inside again. Pet him for almost an hour, sipping his drink by the fire. 

At one point, he laughed quietly. “You’re better company than most.”

Henryk purred and didn’t care. He was there. He accepted that. They both got what they wanted.

 

-

 

When Henryk was officially back from leave, he went to the Cathedral Ward with Valtr’s permission and met with Gascoigne. 

“Sorry it took me so long,” he said. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Gascoigne responded. “I’m just glad you’re okay. You  _ are _ okay, right?”

Henryk leaned against a table. “Yeah, just pushed myself too far. What did you want to talk to me about? You mentioned a mission?”

“Yeah,” Gascoigne clasped his hands together. “I thought maybe I could borrow you again to investigate something. Well, some _ one _ .”

Henryk tilted his head. “I’m not usually recommended for, uh, interviews.”

Gascoigne smiled a little. “I’ll do the talking. It’s more what I’m concerned about happening. This person, he used to be a cleric, but he became a recluse recently. Doesn’t answer the door for shifters. I’m not trying to aggravate him, so I thought showing up with a non-shifter would ease the tension a little. But I need to know I’m with someone who can handle himself in a tight spot.”

Henryk nodded. “I suppose that’s reasonable.”

“So that’s a yes?” Gascoigne asked. Henryk imagined a glint in his eye. 

“Fine,” Henryk said. “Only because I’m curious.”

Gascoigne stood up straight. “Excellent. We’ll go tonight. Meet me at the Central Yharnam side of the great bridge at sundown. Armed.”

“Is he sick?” Henryk asked.

Gascoigne made a noise, head turned toward the floor. “Not sure yet.”

“Ah,” Henryk understood. “I’ll be there.”

He was tightening his mask again to head out, but Gascoigne started and then stopped, resting his hand on the table behind him. “Are you okay?”

Henryk nodded. “I promise. Sometimes I train too hard. It’s nothing to be concerned about.”

Gascoigne accepted this, though his mouth was still in a straight line when Henryk left his office. It didn’t seem like suspicion— just like Gascoigne was concerned for Henryk’s health. Henryk wrestled with this suspicion for the rest of the day, wondering if Gascoigne was now doubting his own offer to let Henryk join up with him, or if he was just thinking they were on friendlier terms than they actually were. Gascoigne certainly seemed like the kind of guy who jumped social steps like that. One day you’re getting each other’s names wrong and the next you’re having drinks like old friends.

No way in hell was it anything more than that. 

Though, Henryk did wonder at the fact that Gascoigne lived alone and spent much of his evenings tending to a stray cat. He seemed lonely. Maybe they could be friends, if Henryk learned to set those other warm feelings aside. 

The aconite would help.

 

-

 

Gascoigne was crossing the bridge when Henryk stepped onto the Central Yharnam side of it. The setting sun was brilliantly orange, lighting the way for people returning to their side of town. Henryk had always heard the stories of when the bridge had been blocked during the old Queen’s time, and it was the shifters who opened it back up for public use. It used to mean something, which side of town you lived on. 

“I don’t want to spook this guy,” Gascoigne said when they were side by side. “But I’m afraid he might be a danger to others.”

Henryk glanced at Gascoigne’s profile. “Have any shifters gotten close?”

They set off on Gascoigne’s lead. “We sent a scout out one night to try to get a read on him. They picked up an odd scent but we couldn’t quite tell. We didn’t exactly want dogs scratching at his door so we pulled back before anybody could notice. People get upset seeing animals walking through the street. They’ll think something’s gone wrong.”

Henryk nodded.

“They also don’t like seeing four or five people banging on someone’s door, so this is a much better operation. Henriett is close by just in case.” Gascoigne added. “Thank you again.”

“Don’t mention it,” Henryk said. 

The house was on the Central side of town, not too far from Gascoigne’s. When they got to the place, the door was open just a sliver.

“Oh shit,” Gascoigne muttered, pushing it open. 

Henryk took a breath through his nose. There was a sharp scent permeating the air, the smell of a shifter, afraid.

“Do you think we’re too late?” Henryk asked. 

Gascoigne grabbed his axe. “Let’s find out.”

They stepped inside and shut the door behind them. 

“Hello?” Gascoigne called out, walking slowly. “It’s alright, you’re not in trouble.”

The sound of glass shattering alerted them to their left. Gascoigne hurried over to a doorway, Henryk still breathing deep. The smell was getting sharper, more distinct, but it wasn’t normal animal smell. It was something else.

Henryk was still a few paces from the door, and he drew a knife as he walked into sight of the bedroom beyond. There was a black mass on the floor, fur and limbs in a tangle. Henryk poised himself to throw. He looked at Gascoigne who flanked the door, eyes on Henryk. He gave Henryk a nod and Henryk threw. A yelp sounded when the knife hit home, not nearly a lethal wound, but enough to get the beast’s attention. It didn’t just stir. It screeched and sprang up on two legs, almost too big to fit in the room. Its hand grabbed the doorframe and cracked the wood, wrenching open a path for itself. 

Gascoigne was ready with the axe, burying it into the creature’s back as soon as it was in view, and Henryk dashed in close with the cleaver, breaking its arm. The close quarters weren’t ideal, and the creature slammed a hand into Gascoigne, crushing him against a wall. Henryk didn’t have time to check on him, though, going in for the creature's thigh to try to weaken it further. It was hunched over in the too small house, one arm larger than the other, lashing out wildly. Gascoigne rushed back in, thrusting forward with the axe, catching it right through the middle. The beast went limp, but Henryk saw one of its own clawed fingers jabbed straight through Gascoigne’s thigh. 

“Shit,” Henryk ran over, wasting no time breaking the claw off from the body of the beast. It was buried a few inches deep. “That’s going to hurt to remove.”

Gascoigne tried to put weight onto the leg and inhaled through gritted teeth. “Fuck.”

“You’re going to have to shift through this,” Henryk said, standing up straight. 

“Not shifting until I’m home,” Gascoigne managed, grunting as he leaned against the wall. He started buttoning up his coat, covering the wound. “We’ll get Henriett to clean this up and I’ll go lick my wounds.”

He sounded tired.

“Let me help you there,” Henryk said. 

Gascoigne turned his face toward Henryk. “Fine. Henriett is down the block, waiting by the stairs. Mind fetching her?”

Henryk moved fast to retrieve her. She showed up, looked around and nodded. “I’ll take care of it, boss. Get home.”

Gascoigne nodded at her and started off trying to conceal his limp. Henryk walked beside him at his slow pace. 

“Good thing I’m close,” Gascoigne said. “Goddamn this hurts.”

“It’s good that we finished it quickly,” Henryk said, unsure of what else to say. He was never too good at comforting words. “I’m sure you’ll heal up fast.”

Gascoigne gave a rough laugh. “Never liked getting quarantined. I always get restless.”

They reached the house and Gascoigne opened up the front door. He started taking his coat off and turned back to Henryk.

“Thank you,” he said. 

Henryk nodded. “Do you need help?”

Gascoigne shook his head. “I’ve dealt with enough injuries in my time. I’ll be alright.”

Henryk found that he wanted to ask about it, but he didn’t. Gascoigne needed to heal. “Good luck.”

Henryk got a nod in return and the door shut. 

He stepped back, eyes drawn to the window. The curtains shifted further closed. Henryk inhaled through his nose and finally got a full breath of Gascoigne’s shift behind the door. No fear to be found, only an animal pacing in a cage. 


	4. Chapter 4

Henryk was too curious not to show up. Of course he wanted to see the wolf. He also wanted to make sure Gascoigne was healing properly, but mostly it was selfishness.

As he drew closer to the house in shift, the smell hit him. Blood and animal. Creeping around to the porch, he took it slow, not wanting to alarm Gascoigne. When he hopped up onto the railing, two blue eyes were already staring up at him. 

The wolf lay splayed out on the porch, head resting on his front paws. He perked up when he saw the black cat perched a few paces away, ears flicking up and head lifting. Henryk felt a rise in his stomach at this reaction. Then, just the slightest  _ thump thump thump _ of a tail hitting the wooden floor. 

Henryk was in awe of the creature. A white wolf bathed in silver moonlight. Gascoigne took up most of the porch, probably just barely able to make it through the doorways of the house. Despite the bloodied spot on his back leg, Gascoigne looked fairly content to just lay there. 

Henryk wondered if he should keep his distance, but he knew Gascoigne was in there, and wouldn’t hurt him. He leapt off the railing and approached slowly. Gascoigne stretched his front paws out toward Henryk, tail and ears lifted. Henryk met him, sidling up to Gascoigne’s face, allowing the wolf to sniff him. Henryk knew his shift smelled different enough from his human form, and there was always a bit of a miscommunication with scent memory between forms. He’d met the same shifter as both human and cat before and never been suspected, so it didn’t concern him to get so close to Gascoigne. Satisfied by the inspection, Gascoigne rested his head once again, and Henryk curled up by the wolf’s neck. 

Gascoigne was warm. It didn’t take long for Henryk to feel lulled by the beating of the wolf’s heart. Silly, Henryk knew, but it felt right to keep watch over the wounded shifter. 

As if Henryk had any claim over him. 

Henryk woke up with a wet nose pressed to his neck. He gently batted the snout away, no claws, just a warning. Gascoigne was leaning over him, nudging him. Henryk begrudgingly moved so the wolf could stand up. Gascoigne still leaned heavily, but he was able to walk. Henryk followed, still amazed at the size of the wolf. Gascoigne squeezed through the doorway and drank from a large bowl on the floor of the kitchen. The wound was less ragged, the dried blood making it look worse than it actually was. Another day and it would be alright. 

Henryk sat back, watching Gascoigne drink messily from the bowl. The wolf turned its blue eyes toward Henryk and nudged the bowl toward him with his nose. Henryk would have raised an eyebrow if he could have. He wasn’t about to share a drinking bowl with the shifter, so he feigned indifference and padded back outside. 

Satisfied by Gascoigne’s progress, Henryk told himself it was time to head home. Still, this was a strangely peaceful place and he found he didn’t want to leave. Gascoigne came back outside, made a little  _ huff _ and stuck his nose back against Henryk’s neck. Henryk tolerated it. He knew how it could be. The longer you stayed in shift, the more you found yourself giving in to random animal urges. 

He wondered if wolves had it easier or worse. 

Gascoigne started easing back down onto the floor, and before Henryk knew it, he was pinned down underneath Gascoigne’s front leg, pressed up against his chest. Telling himself it was for the wounded wolf’s comfort, Henryk settled back down to sleep. 

 

-

 

Henryk opened his eyes to a thick darkness and the loveliest fur blanket he’d ever felt. A chill nipped at his body and he tried to get closer, reaching a hand out and meeting something solid and warm. So soft. He ran his hands through white fabric—no, fur, a beating heart. 

All at once, Henryk was wide awake, human, naked, curled up next to a massive wolf. His hand, deep brown against the pale fur of Gascoigne’s shift, trailed down the wolf’s neck for a moment, memorizing the velvety feel. Realization struck him like an arrow and he shifted, sprinting all the way back home. 

_ Idiot _ .

 

-

 

He told himself he wouldn’t go back. That was far too dangerous. It had been years since he’d shifted in sleep like that— something only young shifters complained about. Such a stupid lack of control. 

No, the  _ real _ lack of control was showing up in the first place. He shouldn’t have bothered. On the other hand, he was finally able to confirm Valtr’s suspicions. They were, in fact, dealing with a wolf. Henryk let Valtr know this the next day.

Valtr nodded, arms crossed. “Fascinating. I wonder where he’s from. He’s no Yharnamite.”

Henryk shrugged. “Does it matter? You’re not from here either.”

“I only wonder how young he was when they found him,” Valtr said. “Wolves tend to seek each other out, but maybe he was older. A bit rebellious, so they let him out of the house a little.”

Henryk considered this. When he pictured rebellious, it didn’t involve a fondness for petting cats. 

“Any other useful information for me?” Valtr asked.

Henryk shook his head. He had information, sure, what liquor the man drank and his favorite armchair and how he liked to cook his meals, but none of it was useful to Valtr. 

“Well, keep up the good work,” Valtr said, dismissing Henryk. “You’ve been quite dutiful.”

Henryk gave a half-hearted salute and went on his way. 

The next few days were boring, save for a letter promising another meeting with Eileen. She gave him a time and place for dinner and he sighed. Meeting her in public wasn’t as enjoyable, merely for the fact that Eileen liked to go to nice places and they couldn’t talk as freely. Still, he indulged her requests as thanks for the aconite.

Eileen was fond of going to the restaurant in the front of the inn by her house. It had booths, which were the closest they could get to private conversation while out in public. The woman was already there when Henryk arrived, draped in a black shawl and sipping a glass of something dark. She gave Henryk a fond smile and looked him over with a sibling’s judgement. 

“When will you buy some nicer clothes, love?” she asked. 

Henryk took the seat across from her and inhaled through his nose to catch a whiff of her drink. “When will you stop drinking that piss?”

She smirked and took another drink of her draught. “Oh, forgive me, I forgot your highness over here prefers only the finest wine.”

Henryk chuckled. 

Eileen set her glass down and rested her chin on her fist. “I hear you’ve been staunchly ignoring my advice.”

Henryk straightened his shoulders. “Not my fault.”

“Two missions with the man? You could have said no,” Eileen countered.

“He’s Captain, Eileen. Besides, Valtr—” 

Eileen rolled her eyes. “That man is going to get you killed.”

Henryk leaned back. “What choice do I have, really?”

She touched the edge of the napkin under her glass. “I still think I might be able to get you into my line of work, discreetly of course.”

Henryk shook his head. “I don’t want to be some… special pet for the higher ups.”

She gave him a pitying look. “Instead, you agree to be the non-shifter who fights with the shifters.”

“That can easily be blamed on Valtr,” Henryk said. 

She smiled. “You’ve very cleanly exonerated yourself. Excellent work.”

Henryk gave a short bow. 

“Now,” she said, bridging her fingers together. “Personal life. Tell me what you’ve been up to.”

Henryk looked away. He’d never lied to Eileen before. She’d known about Blithe, but his relationship— could he call it that?— with Gascoigne was obviously different. 

“Oh, you’ve got something,” she said, pointing at him. 

Henryk sighed. “I decided to run the same experiment that I did with Blithe.”

Eileen opened her mouth, dumbfounded. “You’ve been showing up to his house?”

Henryk’s face burned. “Only sometimes.”

“He’s feeding you?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Henryk said. “He… he seems lonely.”

“Oh, good gracious, Henryk,” she leaned her head to the side as if to see him better. “Leave him be. You know you can just invite people out to pubs, right?”

“Did you know he’s a wolf?” Henryk asked, changing the subject.

Eileen looked surprised for a moment. “Interesting. I’m surprised they’d let one out of the house. Amelia was the only wolf I knew of who held any sort of outside job.”

“Yeah, it seems odd,” Henryk said. 

“Seriously, though, just approach him as a human,” Eileen put her stern voice on. “If you really want to get to know him. I know you’ve gotten used to spying but there’s an easier way to do friendship.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Henryk looked off toward the rest of the restaurant. “I’ve never been good at the friend thing.”

“You’re doing just fine with me,” Eileen offered with a smile. 

Henryk gave her a little grin. “You did most of the leg work.”

“Somebody had to,” she said back. “But I don’t regret it. You have your good side.”

“So generous,” he responded with a smirk. “How long are you home for this time?”

“A few days,” she said. “So you’ll have to entertain me.”

“Get a rousing game of chess going.” Henryk nodded. “I know you love playing days-long matches.”

Eileen gave a dead-eyed stare. “Oh, joy.”

“I can run home and get the board,” Henryk said, pretending to stand.

“Spare me,” Eileen said, reaching for him. “Sit. Surely there’s something we can talk about.”

“Did you not bring the discussion cards?”

She smiled. “Forgot them this time. I suppose we’ll have to sit here in silence after all.”

“Cheers.”

 

-

 

Henryk mulled over the idea of casually approaching Gascoigne for a few more days. It seemed brash, but then again, Gascoigne seemed brash. Maybe he’d go for it. On the other hand, Gascoigne was Captain and Henryk wasn’t even near his rank and that alone felt intimidating enough not to follow through. 

It turned out he didn’t have to do anything. Gascoigne showed up at the League at sundown one day in plain clothes. When Henryk saw him, he tensed for no good reason. Gascoigne wore a plain grey coat that hung to his thighs. Henryk could see the collar of a black dress shirt underneath. Black trousers and black boots. His white hair hung loose around his face. He looked unfortunately handsome, which set Henryk’s nerves off.

“Henryk,” he said, giving a wave. “Can I walk with you for a moment?”

Henryk nodded, loosening his mask. “Yeah, sure.”

They set off, Henryk sticking his hands in his pockets, feeling oddly exposed by this encounter. Gascoigne was silent for a few steps before beginning, “Do you drink much?”

Henryk shrugged, deciding to pull his mask off and shove it into his coat pocket. “Under the right circumstances.”

“What are those circumstances?” Gascoigne asked. 

Henryk actively avoided staring at the man. “Preferably not spending any money.”

Gascoigne chuckled. “Someone gifted me with a bottle of very nice rum. I’m not sure what to do with it and I admit I’ve been wanting to pick your brain.”

“Is this work related or…?” Henryk didn’t want to finish that sentence presumptuously, in case he was wrong.

“I’d prefer it not be,” Gascoigne said. 

Henryk nodded, one knot unwinding while another one tangled. “Sure. You’ve caught me on an off evening.” 

As if he ever had  _ on _ evenings.

Gascoigne smiled. “Good.”

They headed toward Gascoigne’s house. Henryk was feeling an obnoxious fluttering in his stomach with Gascoigne looking so put together. It was too tempting to stare at the well-tailored fit of his coat. He had such broad shoulders, and Henryk knew how much power he possessed.

“You healed up?” Henryk asked.

Gascoigne nodded. “‘Bout three days in shift took care of it. Nearly lost my mind out of boredom. I guess that’s why I wanted to see you. Truthfully, I’ve been bored for a while in this city. I don’t have many friends who aren’t in the service, still fighting.”

Henryk nodded. “That must be hard.”

“It’s not ideal,” Gascoigne admitted. 

They got to his house and he let Henryk in first. Henryk stepped inside the already familiar space, feeling a little guilty for the first time about his spying. 

“If you had your way, would you go back?” Henryk asked. 

Gascoigne shut the door and started unbuttoning his coat. “Immediately.”

“Why?” Henryk pressed. “I imagine it’s not easy out there.”

Gascoigne paused a moment, then carried on, hanging his jacket by the door. “Maybe not, but it felt productive in a way that this doesn’t. It’s hard to explain. Give me your coat.”

Henryk eased his coat off and handed it to Gascoigne, feeling strange. He’d never really done this before, drinks with a person he barely knew. A goddamn handsome shifter at that. 

Gascoigne tossed Henryk’s coat aside and gestured for him to follow. He went to the kitchen and hunted through his cabinets for two glasses, a bottle of rum, and another of molasses. 

“Don’t judge,” Gascoigne said. “I like sweet drinks.”

Henryk watched him mix the two ingredients. “No judgement,” he assured. 

Gascoigne passed him one of the glasses and Henryk took a sip of the concoction. It wasn’t half bad. 

Gascoigne leaned back against the counter behind him and Henryk caught the man’s gaze flicking over to the porch doors. 

“You’re from Loran?” Gascoigne asked.

“I just have family out there,” he lied. “I grew up here.”

“What’s it like over there?”

“Hot. Dry,” he answered. “Boring. I prefer the city. Fighting.”

“Trying to prove something?” Gascoigne asked.

Henryk shook his head. “Not exactly. I just want to be useful.”

“I can respect that,” Gascoigne said. “That’s exactly why I asked to join the military. I got tired of sitting around.”

“Where were you sitting before this?” Henryk asked. 

Gascoigne gave Henryk a considering look before answering, “The Upper Ward.”

Henryk pretended he wasn’t aware of this. All the wolves lived there. “So… you’re not a dog?”

“Nah,” Gascoigne answered. “My unit knows, but other than that, I’m trying to keep it fairly quiet for now. I trust you not to go spreading rumors.”

Henryk gave a short laugh. “Don’t really have people to spread rumors to.”

Gascoigne straightened up. “Mind if I take my wrap off?”

Another offer of trust. Henryk shook his head. 

Gascoigne quickly unwrapped the white fabric from his eyes and set it down on the counter. He ran his fingers through his hair. Henryk wanted to smile at the self-conscious gesture, but fought it off, choosing to look away. He felt so awkward, but also glad that he was there. Gascoigne took another drink.

“What do you do when you’re not running around for Valtr?” Gascoigne asked. 

Henryk met his ice blue eyes, still overwhelmed by the vivid color. “I, uh, read. I do have a friend who drags me out sometimes. And I take walks. Riveting, I know.”

Gascoigne smiled wide. “Hey, some people don’t need anything more than that. Doesn’t make you worse off.”

Henryk wanted to thank him for not judging him. Instead, he took a drink.

Gascoigne asked him about books, favorite and least favorite titles. Gascoigne, unsurprisingly, didn’t read much, but listened like he did. They drank more. Gascoigne started laughing a little louder and Henryk still liked the sound. Gascoigne admitted to feeding the stray cat, how he enjoyed taking care of “the little guy”. 

“Funny, he came and kept me company while I was in shift for a little while. I think he’s trying to protect me.”

“Nice to have a guardian,” Henryk said, buzzing inside. 

Gascoigne chuckled. “Yeah. Haven’t seen him in a couple days though.”

“Cats are fickle,” Henryk told him, warmth spreading through his body. “He’ll probably be back.”

After their third drink, they migrated to the living room. Gascoigne lit a fire and settled in his armchair. Henryk sat heavily on the couch. He hadn’t drank this much in a while. It made him feel bubbly. 

“What was the Upper Ward like?” Henryk asked.

Gascoigne laughed. “A very pretty zoo. Hell of a view, but not much space to run.”

“You like running?” Henryk asked, picturing the white wolf going at full speed. God, he was probably faster than a horse. 

Gascoigne had a bit of a dreamy smile on. “Nothing like running in shift. Makes you feel free. Sorry.”

Henryk waved his hand. “I don’t mind. I’m not jealous, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Gascoigne pulled a face. “Never know who you’ll piss off.”

“You like the wolf?” Henryk clarified. 

Gascoigne took a deep breath in. “Yeah.”

Henryk  _ was _ a little jealous. 

“Still… it comes with its caveats,” Gascoigne went on. He rubbed at his jaw. “A lot of rules when you’re one of the prized shifters. Expectations.”

Henryk watched a mix of emotions cross Gascoigne’s face, waiting for the explanation. 

Gascoigne barely gave a shake of his head. “The most important thing to them is preserving the line. You know how it works. People can carry the possibility of the shift without being shifters themselves. You can have long lines of non-shifters and then, out of nowhere, you got a wolf on your hands. And then they take you to the Upper Ward and try to fix you up with a nice girl to make more little wolves.”

Henryk eyed him. “You got a girl?

Gascoigne scoffed. “Fuck, I don’t know. Before I was off fighting, my watcher— y’know, the one they had taking care of me up there— he had me meet this girl a couple times. And they haven’t brought her up since I came back, but I think it’s only a matter of time. They’re just letting me adjust.”

Henryk raised his glass up, but didn’t drink. “You don’t like her?”

Gascoigne met Henryk’s gaze. “She’s perfectly lovely and I couldn’t care less about her.”

“Not your type?” Henryk asked. 

“Not in the slightest,” Gascoigne admitted, a bit of an edge to his voice. 

Normally, Henryk would keep this thought to himself, but after three drinks he asked, “What  _ is _ your type?”

Gascoigne laughed, staring at the fire for a moment. He licked his lips. “Someone who can handle themselves.”

Non-gendered terms. Gascoigne could have said  _ herself _ , but he didn’t. Did that mean…? It couldn’t be. 

“I understand,” Henryk said, eyes on the table in front of him. “Someone independent.” 

Gascoigne nodded, still not looking at him. 

A moment passed, and Henryk’s brain spiraled into a fantasy where Gascoigne was saying without saying that he liked men, that he liked  _ Henryk _ and that it would be fine if they tried something. A version of this evening that ended with more scratching. 

“It’s getting late,” Gascoigne said, finally looking at Henryk again. “I didn’t mean to keep you up this long.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Henryk said. “Didn’t have any other plans. But I can head out if you’re tired.”

Gascoigne smiled, but shook his head. “I should probably sleep this off. Hangovers make me snap at people.”

Henryk gave a laugh, and Gascoigne caught his eye. Henryk burned a little. “Snappy— wolves— sorry.”

There was fondness all over Gascoigne’s face as he stood up and grabbed both of their glasses. “This was fun.”

“Yeah.” Henryk stood, just a little unsteady, and looked around for his coat. It was draped across the back of the armchair— he hadn’t noticed where Gascoigne had thrown it earlier. He slipped it back on and took a deep breath. 

“You good?” Gascoigne asked, leaning in the doorway of the kitchen.

Henryk nodded. “Not used to strong drinks, but I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t get into trouble, now,” Gascoigne said, just barely smirking.

Henryk returned the look, putting a hand on the front door. “I’d like to stay on your good side.”

“Yeah, my bad side’s pretty ugly,” Gascoigne said, eyes bright.

Henryk found himself hesitating to touch the door knob, but he felt it would be far too obvious to try to stay any longer. 

“I’ll see you,” Henryk said before he stepped back outside. 

He took a deep breath as he shut the door, one last breath of the house, before putting his mask on and heading home. 

He slept like the dead, no dreams, no movement. When he woke up in the same pants he’d worn the night before, he told himself he should probably avoid drinking like that again. A quick shower later, he was back at the League with Valtr, discussing his next scouting mission. 

“The Captain himself is asking if we have any information regarding the new clinic that’s opened up in Central Yharnam,” Valtr said. He pointed to the map that hung on his wall. “It’s down here, run by a woman named Iosefka.” 

“What does Gascoigne want to know?” Henryk asked. 

Valtr raised an eyebrow. “Using names now, are we?”

Henryk didn’t respond, just stared. 

Half smiling, Valtr continued. “Well, she’s claiming to be researching a cure for the sickness. Any shifter would be curious about her. The thing is, she’ll need shifters in order to test medicine. Shifters with the sickness.”

Henryk narrowed his eyes. “Is Gascoigne trying to figure out who’s sick from who she’s helping?”

Valtr shook his head. “That’s what I thought as well, but he seems more interested to know if her trials are humane. A sick shifter is desperate. She could be taking advantage of people.”

Henryk was surprised, and also relieved. It wasn’t their place to go around ratting people out who weren’t causing any harm. He wouldn’t have liked if Gascoigne were so eager to start some kind of witch hunt for sick people. 

“I’ll scope it out,” Henryk said. 

Valtr dismissed him, but not without a cheerful, “why don’t you report directly to Gascoigne? Send him my regards.”

Henryk scoffed and went on his way. He  _ would _ do that, but only to avoid more of this teasing. Or so he told himself. 

Taking a series of alleys and rooftops, Henryk wound his way over to Iosefka’s clinic. From the outside, it was simply a large building with a medical cross hung over the entrance to signify its purpose. There was a nice courtyard in front, empty at the moment. The sun was starting to set and Henryk figured they were closing up. On the second floor of the building light spilled from the windows. Henryk made for the courtyard, slinking up to a tree spiraling up toward a stone wall. 

Voices carried from within, but he couldn’t hear what they were saying. It was clear from the tree that the building was even larger than he thought, extending backwards and up to a third floor as well. Quite an impressive space. Henryk leapt onto the stone wall and found another courtyard on the other side, connected to a back entrance. 

A person sat in the courtyard on the ledge of a well. She wore a drab grey dress and was brushing her hair with her fingers. Henryk could smell her shift, and her sickness. It was an odd smell, the sickness, caught somewhere between the sharp scent of fear and the sting of antiseptic. The longer Henryk watched the woman, the more he discerned her erratic behavior. Her fingers moved manically, combing through the same bit over and over again. She was singing too, very quietly, a tune of nothingness. 

The backdoor of the clinic opened and a woman with a ponytail dressed in doctor’s robes stepped out. “Arianna, come back inside.” The doctor smelled of a shifter, but not a dog, nor wolf. 

Arianna rose to her feet and brushed off her dress as if it were far more elegant than it was. The way she carried herself felt regal and Henryk wondered if she was someone special or just delusional from the sickness. 

“More medicine?” Arianna asked.

The doctor nodded. “Another dose before I send you to bed.”

Arianna sighed. “So droll here. I miss dances. Could we have a dance sometime?”

The doctor looked as though she were dealing with a small child from the look on her face. “No, my dear, we can’t have a dance in the clinic. Come along now.”

Her voice did not hold much sympathy. 

The two went back inside and the door shut behind them. Henryk didn’t have a good vantage point to the rest of the clinic so he set off to see if he could get onto a nearby rooftop and spy more easily. Of course, it took him forever to find a way back up and around, trekking through puddles and backyards and up window sills and around chimneys. Eventually, though, he found a rooftop just above the second courtyard with the well. 

He also found a window into the rest of the clinic. The lights were dim but he could make out a person’s shape drifting through the room, scanning a bookshelf. Her ponytail was identical to the doctor’s and Henryk assumed this was Iosefka. He wondered if she lived in the clinic. She removed a book from a shelf and took a seat behind a desk where she began scribbling notes. 

Henryk stayed for a while, until the doctor stopped writing and left the room. By then the moon was high and bright so Henryk called the watch off. Nothing incriminating had happened, so it wasn’t like he’d discovered something important, but a bad feeling was scratching at his heart. 


	5. Chapter 5

Henryk made his way back to the Cathedral Ward the next day to request a meeting with Gascoigne. He was only vaguely trying to mess with Valtr at that point. This news was more concerning for shifters anyway. Henryk felt like it was a waste of time just to let it filter through another person before it got back to Gascoigne.

However, nothing rational explained Henryk’s disappointment when he was informed by the man who managed the chapel that the Captain was out. 

“Oh,” Henryk glanced at the windows. “Right.”

“He’s meeting with someone from the Upper Ward,” the attendant said. “He mentioned it wasn’t going to take long, if you wanted to come back in a little while.”

Henryk nodded. “Yeah, if he comes back before I do, tell him I was here.”

The lanky, hunched man gave a smile. “Are you the one, the non-shifter the captain’s been asking to join?”

Henryk had to laugh a little. “Yeah. But that’s not why I’m here. Don’t get his hopes up.”

The man nodded. “Ah, yeah, the Captain’s certainly got some interesting plans, but I do think they’re for the best.”

Henryk studied the man. He smelled of a shifter, but not a dog. Something more modest. Henryk had seen a few different kinds of shifters over the years— dogs, bears, birds, even snakes. It seemed random for the most part, but the old saying was that even if you didn’t resemble your shift at first, you’d grow more like it over time. 

“Good to know there are open minded shifters out there,” Henryk said. “I’ll be back.”

“Stay safe,” the man called as Henryk left the chapel. 

Henryk didn’t spend all that much time in the Cathedral Ward, so he wasn’t as familiar with it. Central was where he and Eileen lived and he didn’t need anything outside of there. It was generally regarded as more affordable and was mostly populated by non-shifters. The Cathedral Ward was where the upscale places were, places that Henryk wouldn’t typically go by himself. It was a beautiful place, though— evidence of the old aristocracy everywhere in the architecture. During the end of the old queen’s reign, she claimed to see visions of a great God, turning the city into a altar. When Laurence showed up, people were ready for a change. Why worship an invisible God when shifters were real? 

Henryk wandered through the Ward, searching for a suitable place to pass the time. He found himself wandering along a stretch of road that was completely open on one side, showing a view of Central Yharnam. Henryk felt a brief moment of fear clench in his gut at the thought of how high up they were. He turned away from the sight, instead studying the tops of the buildings of the Lower Ward, and the glimpses of the Upper Ward beyond that. 

Henryk tried to picture Gascoigne living in such caged luxury. It was surprising to imagine that he would have gone willingly to that place. Technically, nobody forced the wolves to live there. It was more that there was no reason to refuse such care and wealth. The opportunity to take part in the ruling of Yharnam. Maybe it was the power that drew Gascoigne, but that didn’t feel right either. 

Maybe it had more to do with that loneliness. 

Henryk pressed on, drifting in and out of shops that held no interest for him. He had no use for fine tea or hand-decorated dinnerware or tailored suits. The people around Henryk gave him space as he walked, and he knew he was giving off an air of severity that most people didn’t react well to. Eileen had explained a while ago that he intimidated people even when he wasn’t in his Confederates’ clothes.  _ You have to try shutting it off sometimes _ , she’d said,  _ not everyone is as persistent as I am when it comes to making a friend. _ She was wrong, it turned out. Apparently Henryk drew persistent people to him. 

When Henryk got back to the Chapel, the attendant told him that Gascoigne was, in fact, back, but his tone was not nearly so welcoming. 

“Should I try again later?” Henryk asked. 

The man looked a little nervous. He leaned in closer. “I don’t think the Captain’s meeting went the way he wanted it to. He’s in his office now. I can get him if you want.”

Henryk debated this, thinking that, if it were him, he’d probably want to be left alone. Then again, Gascoigne asked for this information. And… maybe they were friendly enough that it didn’t matter. 

“I’ll take my chances,” Henryk said. “Tell him I’m out back if he wants to see me. I’ll wait for a little while.” 

The attendant nodded and went toward the office. Henryk turned the other way, headed for the courtyard where the dogs trained. It was empty now, save for some crows perched on the fence, but Henryk could still smell all the shifters who used the area. The scent of human and animal was thick in the air. He could pick out Gascoigne’s easily, a silver thread woven through a tapestry of dull color. 

“Hey.”

Henryk startled and whirled around to see someone lurking in the corner. 

“What are you doing here?” the man asked and stepped closer. It was the shifter whose arm Henryk had broken, Jozef. 

“Waiting to talk to your captain,” Henryk answered, looking the man up and down. He looked healed and, judging from his loose clothing, he was out here training by himself. Henryk was a little confused as to how he missed the scent of a shifter in his presence. 

“You’re not seriously joining up with us, are you?” Jozef asked. 

Henryk wanted to roll his eyes. “I’m not here about that.”

Jozef narrowed his eyes. “You got lucky once, alright? It doesn’t make you better than me.”

“I never said I was,” Henryk told him. He was going to back down, but anger sparked in his chest. This aggression was exactly what he was sick of when it came to shifters who thought they ran the world. “But if I did, it would have more to do with your attitude then your ability to fight.”

Jozef snarled at him, lashing out and grabbing the front of Henryk’s mask. Jozef was taller, and Henryk instinctively took Jozef’s wrists in defense. Henryk knew he wasn’t stronger than Jozef, and he’d missed his opportunity to be faster. He took a deep breath in, and caught something tangy in the air that made his nose itch. 

“Listen to me,” Jozef said. “You’ll never be one of us. So stop acting like you can come and go as you please.”

“Take it up with your  _ Captain _ ,” Henryk said back, refusing to give in to this. 

Jozef laughed harshly. “I will make your life a living hell if you take his offer.”

Henryk heard the unmistakable heavy footsteps of Gascoigne from within the chapel. His whole body was tuned up for a fight, but he tried to tamp it down, deciding on a different course of action.

“You’re pathetic,” Henryk whispered. “Do I scare you that much?”

“Fuck you,” Jozef snapped. “I could kill you right now.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Henryk said, the footsteps drawing nearer. “You’re just a pup on a leash.”

Jozef shoved Henryk to the ground, stepping a bare foot onto his chest to hold him there. The tangy smell rose up, and Henryk suddenly knew what he was dealing with. Uncontrollable anger. Impulse control. Territorial bullshit. 

Beast blood.

Jozef looked ready to shift, but Henryk knew it was already over. Gascoigne was in the courtyard, fury set into the muscles of his jaw. Jozef noticed far too late, wheeling around just as Gascoigne placed a hand on Jozef’s shoulder. Gascoigne’s fingers shifted, claws digging into Jozef’s skin, eliciting a yelp of pain.  

“I have had enough of you,” Gascoigne said, voice low. “You picked the wrong day.”

Jozef gritted his teeth, blood dampening his shirt. “I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not,” Gascoigne spit the words. “I don’t have time or patience right now to deal with you. Go home or I’ll pull your nails out of your paws. Report to me tomorrow at noon if you have any interest in keeping your job.”

Gascoigne brutally yanked his claws from Jozef’s shoulder and made room for him to leave. Jozef wasted no time fleeing the courtyard. The smell of blood followed him all the way out. Henryk released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Gascoigne turned to him and offered his other hand, which Henryk accepted. Once back on his feet, Henryk undid his mask and eyed Gascoigne. 

“Thank you,” he said, keyed up by the sight of blood and something else.  

Gascoigne gave Henryk a tilted smile. “I know you can hold your own. Which means you wanted me to see that.”

Henryk was impressed by his insight. “I think your man is on something extra.”

Gascoigne huffed. “Not surprised. He was leftover from Blithe’s unit. Been a pain in my ass since I got here. I think he’s got a grudge ‘cause he didn’t get the job himself.”

“Makes sense,” Henryk admitted. He shouldn’t think like this, shouldn’t see Gascoigne like this, but something about the power Gascoigne held made Henryk breathless. “Well, thank you anyway.” 

Gascoigne nodded, inhaling deeply. He glanced down at his bloodied hand. “I may have taken that a little too far.”

“I heard you had a bad day,” Henryk said. “Sorry to make it worse.”

“It’s fine,” Gascoigne assured him, starting to sound tired. “Sorry you had to see me lose my temper. Talk to me. What have you got? I assume this has to do with the clinic.”

Henryk elaborated on what he’d seen, describing as much as he could without admitting to anything he couldn’t explain as a non-shifter. Gascoigne absorbed the information silently, probably struggling the same way that Henryk was. 

“Nothing outwardly illegal, but… I don’t like it,” Henryk told Gascoigne. “But I can’t do anything about a hunch.”

“I don’t know why I agree with you,” Gascoigne said. “But I do. Can you keep checking on it?”

Henryk nodded, then actually smiled. “I would have, even if you hadn’t asked.”

Gascoigne looked pleased. “No wonder Valtr is so protective of you.”

Henryk raised his brows. “Sorry?”

Gascoigne gestured for Henryk to follow him inside. “I may or may not have approached Valtr about… poaching you from his team. He told me that he was prepared for a bidding war if it came down to it.”

“No shit,” Henryk muttered. “Good to know.”

Gascoigne looked back at Henryk with a smile. “But don’t tell him I said that.”

“Don’t worry,” Henryk assured him. “I’m good with secrets.”

They stepped back into the chapel and Gascoigne rolled his shoulders. “Thanks for coming by.”

“”Course,” Henryk said. He was sensing that this was when he should leave and go back to his own side of things, but words found themselves on his lips. “If you, uh, need to talk about why you’ve had a shit day.” He couldn’t quite bring himself to finish the thought, already feeling embarrassed by putting it out there.

“Might take you up on that,” Gascoigne said. “But I should do some decompressing first. Don’t want to snap at you just ‘cause I’m pissed off.”

Henryk nodded, wanting to know what that meant, but not wanting to ask. “Just let me know.”

“I’d ask you about tonight but I hate springing things on people last minute,” Gascoigne said, gaze cutting over to Henryk.

Henryk shrugged, hoping he didn’t sound too desperate. Speaking through the nervous lump in his throat was obnoxious. “Unless Valtr needs me, I’m not busy.”

“Well, if you insist,” Gascoigne said with a smirk. He pulled a pocket watch from his coat, examining the face. “You know where I’m at. Maybe a little after nine?”

Henryk nodded, overwhelmed at how easy this was. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

Gascoigne said goodbye with a smile on his face. It took Henryk a few hours to fully come down from everything, but as soon as he left to go to Gascoigne’s, it all came rushing back. The tightness in his chest and memories chasing down his spine. He kept spiraling back to a shirtless Gascoigne breathing in his ear. This was a bad idea. One more evening, he decided— keep it short, and then cut it off. 

Gascoigne answering the door, freshly showered and smelling of the wolf threw that out the window. Henryk was drawn in like a moth to flame. 

Gascoigne took Henryk’s coat again and invited him to the couch while he lit a fire. Watching him kneeling in front of the hearth, Henryk shamelessly studied his back and waist and bare feet. This was definitely a bad idea. 

“You feeling better?” Henryk asked as Gascoigne coaxed a flame out of the wood.

“Yeah,” Gascoigne said. “Just needed a run to clear my head.”

Henryk watched him rise with the drunken look of a teenager with a crush, and quickly tried to erase it from his face. Gascoigne glanced over at him. 

“You want a drink?”

Henryk knew what he  _ should _ say and it wasn’t “sure.”

Gascoigne smiled, playful. “I’ll make it lighter this time.”

Normally Henryk would have hated the feeling that he was getting teased. Coming from Gascoigne, he didn’t mind so much. Henryk wanted Gascoigne to know that he wanted to be there, that he felt comfortable, so he took his boots off and put one foot up on the table. Internally cursing at himself, he pulled his sweater off too, trying to match Gascoigne’s own casual look. Knowing how shifters worked, he rolled his sleeves up. If Gascoigne held any interest in Henryk, the more of his scent in the air, the better. 

Gascoigne came back with two glasses, crossing around so he could sit on the table beside Henryk’s foot. He handed the drink to Henryk, who tentatively took a sip. Sweet and clean, a little smokey.

“Is that more your speed?” Gascoigne asked.

Henryk nodded, taking another drink. Gascoigne matched him and then set it aside, leaning his elbows on his thighs. 

“I gotta ask you a strange question,” he said.

Henryk, as usual, panicked a little at the phrasing, but didn’t say anything.

Gascoigne sighed and a smile took hold of his face, but he looked a little awkward about it. “Do you wear cologne?”

Henryk knew this wasn’t exactly asking him about being a shifter, but it could be dangerous. Only shifters would really care about how you smelled. “No.”

“Sorry,” Gascoigne started. “It’s just a shifter thing. I got a good nose and you have a, uh, unique scent. That must sound weird to you.”

Henryk realized that Gascoigne would not be this awkward talking to a shifter. His shoulders relaxed and he cracked a smile. “Is it bad?”

Gascoigne shook his head. He hadn’t looked at Henryk since bringing it up. “Quite the opposite.”

The smile dropped from Henryk’s lips. Gascoigne liked how he smelled. A  _ shifter _ liked how he smelled. All Henryk could manage to respond with was, “Yeah?”

Gascoigne clasped his hands together. “You don’t smell like a shifter, but you don’t quite smell entirely human either. Something different.”

Henryk’s heart was thudding uncomfortably. It wasn’t something shifters spoke of lightly, the way someone smelled to them. Maybe Gascoigne was banking on Henryk being unfamiliar with this kind of talk. Still, it was a risk for him to say anything at all. 

“It’s good,” Gascoigne finished quietly, hand reaching for his drink again. 

In another life, Henryk could have told Gascoigne how good the wolf smelled, but not here, not now. Henryk didn’t know how to respond without crushing this feeling. Such a delicate form of trust. Examining Gascoigne’s blue eyes fixed on his glass, Henryk wanted that attention squarely back on him. 

He offered a small smile. “That why you want me to join up with you?”

Gascoigne’s gaze flicked back up and took in Henryk’s expression. He sat up a little more and Henryk could practically feel something shift behind the man’s eyes. “That was just a bonus.”

The room was shrinking, and Henryk became aware of exactly how close his leg was to Gascoigne. Henryk forced himself to take a sip of his drink, but he couldn’t look away from Gascoigne’s eyes. There was some confidence about him that was as warm as the alcohol in Henryk’s glass. This was no drink between friends, not anymore— unless Gascoigne had a very odd sense of friendship. The urge to keep sharpening Henryk’s words was irresistible. 

“Describe it to me,” he said. 

Gascoigne had a handsome look of fake surprise. “Well. Shifters usually carry different shades of the same scent. Something animal, sharp. It’s vivid, human pushing up against shift. Non-shifters usually smell much simpler. But you’re different. Not two scents vying for control, just one complex note.”

This was news to Henryk, but as long as he didn’t just smell like shifter, it was fine by him. 

“You probably carry the potential for a shift,” Gascoigne said. “You’ll make someone quite happy if that’s the case.”

Henryk quirked an eyebrow. “Someone would have to make me happy first.”

Gascoigne laughed. “Come on, you gotta have girls asking after you.”

Honesty was dangerous, and far too tempting. “You know, my friend once described the look on my face. ‘As appealing as the barrel of a loaded gun’. Her words.”

“I don’t know, sounds pretty tempting,” Gascoigne said. His eyes were bright as the full moon. 

Henryk leaned forward to set his drink on the table, knowing,  _ feeling _ , how close they were. “Maybe if someone told me I smell as good as you think I do, things would be different.”

He heard Gascoigne inhale quietly and the sound was pure poison. It would have been simple to declare the time late and take his coat and walk away like he’d told himself he was going to much earlier. This feeling, though, was so rich. He hadn’t expected it at all and now he was in too deep. 

“People don’t know what they’re missing,” Gascoigne said, voice gone husky. He leaned his hand on the table on the other side of Henryk’s leg. “You’re plenty of fun.” Henryk met his gaze again, not moving away. Gascoigne tilted his head a little. “Less like a gun, though. I’d say you’re more like a knife.”

Henryk couldn’t deny how much he liked the way Gascoigne was leaning over him, but he needed to do something to push back. He had to have a little more say. 

When Henryk pulled back, Gascoigne struggled to hide a spark of disappointment. That was all the go-ahead Henryk needed. He rose to his feet, staring down at Gascoigne, and held his arm up to the other man’s face. Gascoigne’s chest rose and fell, and he eyed Henryk with obvious suspicion. Henryk only had to nod at him. With surprising gentleness, Gascoigne took Henryk’s wrist in both hands. He pressed his nose to Henryk’s dark skin and breathed. Henryk couldn’t put words to the power he felt in that moment. A wolf at his mercy, leashed to his scent. 

Another breath, and Gascoigne sighed. “So goddamn good.”

Henryk wanted to tell him more than ever what Gascoigne’s own scent did to him, but he kept his mouth shut. This was enough. It had to be. 

“You shouldn’t let me do this,” Gascoigne said. He pulled Henryk’s wrist away from his face and Henryk admired the restraint for a moment. One of them should have common sense. 

“Why not?” Henryk asked, genuinely curious what his answer would be. 

Gascoigne seemed to expend great effort to let go of Henryk and lean away. Henryk didn’t fight, just sat back down on the couch. “I didn’t get a chance to explain my bad day,” Gascoigne said. 

Henryk swallowed, not liking where this was going. “I guess I got distracted distracting you.”

Gascoigne cracked a smile, gaze flicking up to Henryk and back away. “It was a good distraction, I promise. It’s just a little hard to shake when it’s part of the problem.”

Henryk folded his arms, able to put two and two together. “Guessing you thought you had a little more time before that girl came back?”

Sighing, Gascoigne pushed one hand through his hair. He sniffed like he caught something foul on the wind. “My watcher is adamant that I meet with her. He’s being a real asshole about it.”

It wasn’t exactly surprising, and Henryk couldn’t be mad, but it didn’t make it easier to swallow.  _ Be rational _ , he told himself. This is the Captain, this is a shifter, a wolf. Henryk would only ever be a distraction. Why lie about it? “So, meet her. What’s the worst that’ll happen?”

Gascoigne chuckled. “Good question.”

“Maybe you’ll even like her,” Henryk managed to say, despite the gnawing sensation in his chest. “She a wolf too?” 

“Nah,” Gascoigne shook his head. “A deer. Looks like one too, as far as I remember.”

“That good or bad?” Henryk asked, unable to suppress a grin. 

Gascoigne met his smile. “I’ll have to let you know. It’s been a couple of years now.”

“Yeah, tell me how it goes,” Henryk said before he could stop himself. “Maybe you’ll like her scent too.”

Gazes latched, neither of them moved, letting that sentence sink in. The words burned with good and bad truths. 

“She like chess?” Henryk asked quickly. “I could teach you.”

Gascoigne scoffed. “Of course you like chess. Yeah, alright, let’s play.”

“Just know now that you’re going to lose,” Henryk told him. “It’ll make it easier. You seem competitive and I’m not trying to piss you off.”

Gascoigne’s eyes widened for a moment before he rose to his feet, probably closer than he needed to get. “I’ll have you know that I’m gracious in both defeat and victory.”

“Yeah, we’ll see,” Henryk said. 

Gascoigne disappeared into another room to look for a board that he claimed had been a gift. An old friend who told him he needed lessons in patience. Henryk told Gascoigne he’d be happy to teach. Talking to Gascoigne had quite suddenly become a pleasant game. Every word they said, each too-familiar smile felt like it was pushing toward something. Chess was merely a backdrop to the real sport of trying to get under each other’s skin.

“You’re very skilled,” Gascoigne admitted upon losing.

Henryk shook his head. “Nah, you’re just bad at this. But thank you.”

“Here I am, trying to be kind,” Gascoigne said, smiling. “I think maybe you’re the one who needs to be taught something about manners.” 

Henryk held Gascoigne’s gaze, wanting nothing more than to set the other man off, knowing it was a bad idea and that he was clearly  _ trying  _ to be good. “Yeah, etiquette isn’t my strong suit.”

“But you’re good with secrets,” Gascoigne reminded him, tapping the chess board. “That’s step one to high society.”

“Don’t worry.” Henryk reached over the board and pushed Gascoigne’s king onto its side. “I won’t tell anyone how bad you are at chess.”

“Thank you,” Gascoigne said, staring at Henryk. 

Henryk met his gaze. “We can work on it. If you want.”

“Sounds good,” Gascoigne said, his eyes hazy like he’d been drinking. “I need more fun like this.”

Henryk left Gascoigne’s house completely wired. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep, he went back to the clinic to spy. Iosefka had acquired another patient, a man who smelled of the sickness, shifty-eyed and timid around things. 

“Why do I have to come out here?” he asked in the courtyard, inching out toward the well.

Iosefka shook her head. “It’s part of the process, okay?”

“Are you sure this is going to work?” he asked, cutting his gaze back to her.

She frowned at him. “Only time will tell. I’m sorry that I can’t be more specific. It’s only a trial after all.”

“That other girl didn’t look so well,” he said, arms folded.

Iosefka gave a tilt of her head. “Arianna was a bit off before we began. Thinks she’s some lost Cainhurst noble. But she is progressing, I promise.”

The man huffed. “I just don’t want this to get any worse.”

“I know,” she soothed, hands clasped. “You’ve made the right choice coming here. I’m doing everything in my power to help you get better.”

The man simply huffed again before falling silent, only occasionally asking how long he had to be out there for. She glanced up at the sky and brought him back in a few minutes later. Henryk didn’t know what to make of it, and so he went back home.

Every night Henryk went back to the clinic, gathering any intel he possibly could. Once, he returned to Gascoigne in shift after watching Iosefka, pawing at the back door. Gascoigne came out and scooped the cat right up with one arm. “Find someone else, hm?” He’d pretended to be mad, taking the cat with him into his dining room. “Or have you been stuck in a tree? No matter.”

Henryk perched on Gascoigne’s shoulders as he sorted through papers on the table. Hardly an inch of the wood remained visible underneath mail and books and a jacket and the chess board and other things. Gascoigne tore open a neatly scripted envelope and scanned over the letter within, making a  _ hmph, _ and then tossed it aside. It smelled of perfume. 

Gascoigne took Henryk back out to the living room and laid across the couch with a  _ c’mere you _ . Henryk settled on Gascoigne’s chest while the man pet him, telling himself that this was fine, this could be what they had. He didn’t have to jeopardize anything as a human if this was happening. Besides, it wasn’t allowed. Two male shifters. It just didn’t happen. The girl was what made sense for Gascoigne, and Henryk would deal with it. 

Gascoigne let out a long breath, eyes shut, and said, “she doesn’t like cats. How can you not like cats?”

Henryk inched up closer to Gascoigne’s face. 

This was fine. 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Henryk felt mildly justified when he returned to Gascoigne a few days later to follow up with him. 

“Was wondering when I’d see you again,” Gascoigne said with a smile, leaning against the table in his office. 

Henryk loosened his mask and studied the relieved look about him. “Thought you scared me off?”

“Maybe,” Gascoigne admitted. “I’ve heard I can be abrasive.”

Henryk shook his head. “Maybe you’re a little rough around the edges, but nothing I can’t handle.”

Henryk wished he could see Gascoigne’s eyes, wondering if they looked as alive as Henryk felt, so easily sliding into this banter. They should stop this, really, but it wasn’t like they were hurting anyone just by talking. 

“Find something?” Gascoigne asked.

Henryk reported what he saw— Iosefka’s odd interactions with both Arianna and the man who he’d learned was named Elliot. 

“She keeps making them stand outside as if she’s waiting for something to happen,” Henryk told Gascoigne. “She must be expecting the moon to have some kind of effect.”

“It’s almost like she’s growing something,” Gascoigne noted. “And giving them moonlight to feed them. Have the patients’ behaviors changed at all?”

Henryk shook his head. “They seem the same as ever.”

Gascoigne sighed, rubbing his jaw. “You know… it wouldn’t be a bad thing if someone cured the sickness. Somehow, I don’t think that’s what she’s doing.”

Henryk agreed with him, dropping his gaze to the floor. “The way she acts around them, it’s off-putting. Like she doesn’t want to get too close.”

“She a shifter?” Gascoigne asked. 

Henryk was about to answer  _ yes _ and realized that he shouldn’t be able to know this. “Uh, can’t prove it either way.”

Gascoigne shook his head. “Right. Maybe I can send one of mine to sniff her out. It’s worrying me that she’s attracting more patients.” 

“What I really want is to get a look inside the rest of the clinic,” Henryk said, thinking aloud. “So much of it is out of public view.”

Gascoigne shrugged. “Go ask for a tour on behalf of the city. You have my permission. I can send Henriett to go with you too.”

Henryk perked up. “Yeah?”

“Definitely,” Gascoigne said, pushing away from the table. “If she’s hiding something like we think she is, then she’ll come up with a real good excuse to deny you. If not, you’ll get a look around and maybe she’ll even tell you what medicine she’s using. Get some inside information. My advice is to go in sounding excited about her research. Don’t make it seem like you already suspect her or she’ll clam up.”

Henryk nodded. “Good plan.”

Gascoigne took a step closer, unnecessarily getting into Henryk’s space. He smiled, all teeth. “See? I can strategize when I want.”

Henryk held his ground, crossing his arms. Gascoigne’s scent rose up around him, too strong to ignore, too good for him to want to move. “Are you telling me you lost to me on purpose? What does that get you?”

Henryk caught sight of the wolf in the curves of Gascoigne’s lips. “Another game.”

They held still for a moment while both of them took a deep breath in. 

“When’s the rematch happening then?” Henryk finally asked. “The one where you play like you care.”

Gascoigne made a show of considering this. “Oh, I think I might be able to pencil you in for a game soon. Besides, I need someone to vent to.”

Henryk fought to stay calm at this. Venting wasn’t usually something you did after a  _ good _ thing. He shouldn’t want things to go south with the girl though. It might not even  _ be _ the girl. “Sounds pressing,” Henryk managed to say.

“Terribly,” Gascoigne said, grinning. “I’ve been drowning without a person to talk to.”

“I’ll clear my schedule tonight, how about that?” Henryk offered, heart racing, fully aware that Gascoigne could probably see the light in his eyes. “I can’t say no to a friend in need.”

“So kind,” Gascoigne’s voice was full of warmth, but he backed away. “I’ll expect you later. After you and Henriett go ask for a tour?”

“Sounds good,” Henryk said, not moving. “I’ll wait for you to get her.”

Gascoigne gave a laugh and acquiesced, retrieving Henriett from upstairs. She and Henryk took off shortly after reviewing the plan. Henryk respected Henriett, and the way she held herself. She was a solidly built woman, brown eyes ever watchful, blond hair always in a braid down her back. 

“Were you with Blithe before the current captain?” Henryk asked her, wary to start tossing Gascoigne’s name around.

She shook her head. “The Captain brought me off the frontier with him.”

“You two fought together?” Henryk asked, piqued by the prospect of someone having history with the shifter.

She shook her head though. “I was part of the medical team actually, protecting the healers. Barely saw him myself, but I think he found out that I’m from Yharnam and was missing home. It wasn't that I regretted joining up with the service, I’d just been out there for a while. My mom and sister are by themselves here and…sorry, you’re not asking for my life story.”

Henryk studied the embarrassment on her face, wondering how deep her gratitude to Gascoigne went. “It explains your loyalty. It’s not a bad thing.”

“I take my job seriously,” she went on. “I just want to be able to help my family.”

Henryk nodded. “That makes sense. So you like working for Gascoigne?”

“I think he’s a good Captain,” she said, head held high. “Even if he’s a little bold.”

Henryk was grateful for the mask covering his smile. Bold was a word he could use. When they got to Iosefka’s clinic, it was nearing the end of public hours. They stepped inside the empty courtyard, Henryk listening for signs of anyone nearby. Henriett knocked on the clinic’s front doors, and they stilled as quiet footsteps approached the door. It took immense effort for Henryk to hide his reaction to the scent of the woman on the other side. When she opened the door, it hit him like a brick— half-breed. 

To the untrained eye, she was just a nurse in hospital dress, but Henryk could smell fur hidden from sight. A dog barely begun to change, stuck somewhere between human and canine. She gave a nervous smile.

“Hello there— I’m sorry— the clinic is about to close.” Her voice was thick, as if she had trouble getting her mouth around her words. Maybe something about her jaw was changed too. 

“It’s alright,” Henriett offered a cordial smile. “We’re here on behalf of Captain Gascoigne.”

The nurse looked surprised, glancing between the two of them. She blinked her big, brown eyes a few times. “Are we in trouble? Miss Iosefka isn’t here, so I can’t help much but—”

“Oh, heavens no.” Henriett gave a small laugh, inviting and gentle, putting the nurse at ease. “Nothing like that. He just wanted to send a welcome. Any clinician who endeavors to search for a cure to the sickness is on a noble pursuit. The healer herself isn’t in, though?”

The nurse shook her head, looking relieved. “Unfortunately, no. She had an errand out of the city today. I could tell her you came around.”

“That would be lovely,” Henriett said. “May I ask, is the miss from Yharnam?”

The nurse nodded. “Oh, yes, she left a few years back to study at the college and returned just a few weeks ago. She has so many bright ideas.”

“You’re happy working here, then?” Henriett asked.

The nurse smiled, eyes watering up, though Henryk suspected it was more of a malfunction than genuine happiness. She was awfully twitchy. “Very happy.” The half-breed gave an awkward laugh. “Free medical care is a good benefit as well.”

Henriett looked at Henryk quickly before giving a small bow to the nurse. “Thank you in advance for passing along our message. We’ll check back in a day or two.”

She nodded. “Of course. Pleasant evenings to both of you.”

“You as well,” Henriett said. 

They parted ways, and Henryk waited to see what Henriett had to say. 

“Curious,” Henriett said quietly. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to hang back. See if I can’t find a more opportune moment to do my own investigating.”

Henryk knew what she meant. “Good luck. Don’t get caught. You know people hate when shifters are sniffing at their door.” 

“Don’t worry about me,” she said. “But thank you. I’ll see you later.”

Henryk walked on without her. Employing a half-breed was an interesting choice, and Henryk couldn’t help but think that the nurse would easily mask something else’s subtler scent. He hoped Henriett would be able to pick up on any of what he had. He decided to make a pit-stop, leaving Eileen a note, before heading to Gascoigne’s with knots turning in his stomach.

 

-

 

Walking up to the house, Henryk forgot everything he might have wanted to say other than a careless, “hey,” as Gascoigne greeted him.

Gascoigne opened the door wide. “Hope you’re alright without a drink tonight. Had a friend visit the other day and she cleaned me out.”

Henryk eyed him, a knot tightening painfully in his stomach. “This the girl?”

Gascoigne’s eyes dulled as he closed the door. “No. Nah, this was my friend Izzy. She’s from Pthumeru. We met while I was fighting. She’s got fire in her, lemme tell you, and she cannot say no to a drink.”

“You two…” Henryk didn’t quite know what he wanted to ask, and the longer he let the silence stretch, the worse the implications became until his face was burning. “Uh.”

Gascoigne laughed and put his hand on the back of Henryk’s coat. “Let me take this.”

Henryk slipped it off, skin warm where Gascoigne’s hand had been. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Gascoigne went on, taking Henryk’s coat into his dining room. Henryk quietly trailed after him, looking over the cluttered table. “Izzy and I aren’t compatible like that. I think she’d slice my hand off if I tried to touch her. Come to think of it, I’d do the same to her in the reverse.”

Henryk managed to curb the relief out of his smile. “Sounds like a good friendship.”

“Best kind,” Gascoigne said, emerging from the dining room. “Where neither of you gives a shit.”

“What was the occasion?” Henryk asked as Gascoigne approached him.

Gascoigne shrugged, meeting Henryk’s gaze, always taking that extra step too close. “She doesn’t need one to show up and steal my booze. You, on the other hand, have demanded something of me.”

Henryk took a pleasantly deep breath. “I don’t like being lied to. If you’re going to beat me at chess, do it. I’m an adult, I can handle it.”

When Gascoigne spoke next, it was quiet and obnoxiously intimate. “Maybe I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

Henryk was annoyed at himself for being so swept up in this, but not enough to stop, not by a long shot. “Lying again, I see.” Gascoigne’s lips curved. Henryk inched closer, dropping his own voice. “You can trust me. We don’t have to play chess.”

“Thank God,” Gascoigne said, gaze briefly dropping from Henryk’s eyes and then jumping back up. He moved in closer, and Henryk was caught up between the desire to flee and a different urge to meet him. Instead, he held still as best he could, heart hammering madly in his chest. Gascoigne’s fingers brushed Henryk’s hand, turning Henryk’s palm up. “I hate chess.”

Henryk couldn’t speak while he watched Gascoigne lift Henryk’s wrist as delicately as he might a shard of broken glass. 

“You had me worried,” Gascoigne admitted, pressing his nose to Henryk’s skin. “Very worried.”

Henryk struggled to respond coherently. How quickly they cut to the chase when he asked. “I thought maybe you’d come to me again.”

Gascoigne let him go, looking like he’d been holding his breath since he last saw Henryk and now he could finally let it go. “I’m in a delicate spot. I don’t really want to be seen hunting people down for anything other than work.”

“But I can show up to your home?” Henryk asked. 

“You’re reporting to me,” Gascoigne said. “Technically.”

Henryk narrowed his eyes. “Why can’t you go out?”

Gascoigne sighed, pulling a face like Henryk may as well be begging for information. “Sit. I’ll explain.”

Henryk took the couch again, and Gascoigne looked like he was debating where to sit, heavily taking the spot on the couch next to Henryk, but not  _ too _ close. Not this time.

Gascoigne wove his fingers together, hunching forward. “Her name is Viola, by the way.”

Henryk didn’t really want to know this, but he nodded anyway.

“I met up with her a few days back to reconnect. It was obvious from the get-go that she was expecting something. I’m supposed to get to know her. I’m supposed to want to spend time with her. And, if not her, then some other girl. So, I told her that I’m beginning a big project at work and it’s going to take up most of my time for the foreseeable future and that the only people I had time for right now were colleagues.”

Henryk wanted to tease him. He wanted to give his wrist back over. He wanted to tell Gascoigne it was alright. He  _ wanted _ . It was new and overwhelming and all Henryk managed was to do was laugh.

Gascoigne narrowed his eyes at Henryk, who immediately covered his mouth and shook his head. “It’s not funny.”

“No, it’s not,” Gascoigne said, dangerously close to sounding angry.

“I just…” Henryk struggled for the proper way to end that sentence. “Was kinda hoping you’d say something like that.”

A few painful seconds passed while Gascoigne stared at Henryk, and Henryk worried that he’d pissed off the shifter beyond words. The wolf tilted his head and smiled, though, back to his old smug self. Gascoigne made a barely audible noise in his throat, this  _ huff _ that sent Henryk’s heart into his throat. 

“You like having me this way?” he asked, voice coated with fake annoyance.

Henryk recognized the push, and he was absolutely torn between the push  _ back _ and the pull. He could just hand himself over, or he could play a little longer. What would taste better when he got it? The answer was so obvious as Henryk leaned back, tilting his neck a little, and propping his foot on the table as casually as he could. 

“Maybe,” Henryk said. “I want to see if you’re all bark.”

Gascoigne grinned, leaning a little closer. “Sounds like you  _ want _ to get bitten.”

Henryk could hardly stand this. Holding that ice blue gaze, he smiled. “Hard these days to find someone who’s willing.”

The sound of Gascoigne breaking was soft— just the creak of the couch as he shifted his weight. Henryk inhaled sharply, and then Gascoigne had his face pressed to Henryk’s neck. Henryk let his head fall back like a puppet with his strings cut. Gascoigne had his mouth on the pulse of Henryk’s throat. 

“I know you smell good,” he said, one of his hands touching Henryk’s hip. Henryk was barely coherent as Gascoigne trailed his lips up Henryk’s skin to his jaw. He tilted Henryk’s head toward him with his free hand, their noses brushing. Neither of them bothered to look the other in the eye. 

Gascoigne’s voice was barely a whisper, “I wanna know how you taste.”

The only way Henryk could think to respond was by parting his lips. He felt dizzy in the most pleasant way, unable to perceive anything beyond where Gascoigne touched him. The wolf was wide awake behind Gascoigne’s eyes and Henryk could smell it pacing under the skin as Gascoigne opened his own mouth.  

Just a touch of Gascoigne’s tongue on Henryk’s lip woke Henryk up. He suddenly remembered every ounce of desire he’d been fighting off, and promptly gave up trying to hide it. His hands found Gascoigne’s face, fingers sliding back into his white hair. Henryk pulled him in a little more, not enough to close the distance, just so he could get his own taste. Their tongues met, and Henryk savored the feel. Gascoigne pushed his one hand around to Henryk’s back, fingertips daring to slip under his shirt. 

Henryk wondered if this was all some shifter thing that he didn’t know about. They hadn’t technically kissed and he’d never slept with a shifter so he didn’t know their rules. He’d only ever sort of been with a non-shifter, years ago— a guy named Vitus in Loran that he’d lied about. Commanding himself to keep it together, Henryk tried to reason if this was explicitly sexual or just some ritual he was unaware of.

But it felt good to have Gascoigne tasting him repeatedly and he knew it would be obvious by then how he liked it. Gascoigne kept switching from licking at Henryk’s lips and catching his tongue, to pressing his nose back to Henryk’s neck and breathing in. Henryk wanted to ask what it meant, if Gascoigne was just marking something as his or if he was as turned on as Henryk was, pathetically unsure whether he wanted Gascoigne to notice his erection, still scared that he’d get shamed for his interest. 

It was Gascoigne moving his face down into the hollow of Henryk’s throat and tugging at the collar of his shirt that started to clear things up.

“Use your words,” Henryk teased.

Gascoigne grabbed the front of Henryk’s shirt in his fist and smiled. “Take this off. Now, please.”

“So polite,” Henryk said, intoxicated by the contact. Kicking his boots off, Gascoigne watched Henryk slide his shirt over his head. There was no time to be self conscious as Gascoigne banished the feeling when he yanked a half-naked Henryk into his lap, running his hands over Henryk’s skin. They tried once again to just taste each other, but it seemed both of them stopped needing space at the same time and they collapsed into a fierce kiss. Gascoigne turned and pinned Henryk against the couch easily. The other man’s weight felt good on top of Henryk’s body, a welcome trap.

No confusing it then. 

Henryk was hardly conscious of his own actions, so focused on how Gascoigne was touching and tasting him. Hungry for release, Henryk wanted nothing more than to get Gascoigne out of some of his own layers. Henryk started pulling at Gascoigne’s shirt, hands skimming up the man’s spine.

Gascoigne made a satisfied noise deep in his throat and Henryk felt it through their kiss. As much as he didn’t want to break apart, he didn’t complain when Gascoigne sat up over Henryk and got his own shirt off. Yes, Henryk had seen him bare-chested before, but now he was allowed to appreciate and he wasted no time getting his hands on Gascoigne’s muscles, sitting up to kiss at his collarbone. His own touch seemed to pull the wolf closer to the surface and Henryk wanted to drown in the scent of it. As he ran his hands down Gascoigne’s torso, Gascoigne laid one of his hands on Henryk’s thigh, inching up toward his waist. 

Henryk didn’t know what to expect as Gascoigne started undoing Henryk’s trousers, tossing his belt aside and positioning him by the hips against the armrest. Was this happening quickly? He didn’t have enough grasp on reality to know. As Gascoigne undid Henryk’s zipper, kissing him deeply, Henryk’s whole body thrummed pleasantly. Of course, there was a very good chance that Henryk would be a massive disappointment, that Gascoigne would change his mind or ask for something that Henryk didn’t know. Too many variables had him nervous, but he didn’t stop it. Gascoigne met Henryk’s gaze as he pulled Henryk’s pants down his thighs, over his knees, off entirely. Once he was completely naked, Henryk forgot that this wasn’t allowed. All he cared about was the fire Gascoigne had stoked inside him, and how it raged as Gascoigne leaned forward and traced his fingers down his abdomen, through thick black hair, until— 

Henryk hissed at Gascoigne’s firm grip. Gascoigne gently bit at Henryk’s ear before he spoke. “Let me take care of that.”

Henryk swallowed, unable to speak, just nodding deliriously. Gascoigne pulled back, kissing a line down Henryk’s chest. Of course, the wolf wanted more to taste. Henryk went limp against the armrest, as Gascoigne tongued at Henryk’s navel. The man paused a moment to breathe against Henryk’s stomach, and Henryk had half a mind to be flattered by this obsession with his scent, but the rest of him was getting impatient. He made a quiet noise, just barely indicating his excitement and Gascoigne’s eyes flicked up to Henryk’s face.

“Feeling desperate?” he asked with a smirk.

Henryk  _ was _ . They were so damn close to something, but he tried to play coy. “Someone’s taking his time. Almost like he wants me to get mean.” He sounded way too breathless to be believed, but Gascoigne humored him.

“My sincerest apologies,” he said, moving his fingers delicately across Henryk’s over-sensitive skin, just another tease. “How long has it been?”

Henryk gritted his teeth against the building ache. “Too fucking long.”

Gascoigne lowered his head and breathed on Henryk. “Let’s fix that.”

The feel of Gascoigne’s tongue, gentle at first, was such relief. The wolf teased him, licking up the length of his skin until Henryk was digging his nails into the couch. Quickly, though, Gascoigne got greedy and Henryk’s body felt like it was being tightened from the inside. Henryk didn’t know or care about skill— for all he knew, Gascoigne had never touched another man— but the way Gascoigne drew Henryk in and out of his mouth, so shameless and needy, had him moaning. He buried his hands into Gascoigne’s hair as he fought to breathe. The way Gascoigne pushed Henryk’s legs aside to get at more of him was almost too rough, but saddled with the wet feel of Gascoigne’s tongue, it started pulling Henryk apart. 

Henryk started mindlessly curling forward, rubbing his fingers into Gascoigne’s hair and panting over the man. He was definitely on the edge of losing his mind, or maybe screaming, or both. This was new. He’d never felt ratcheted up quite like this, like someone was about to slice him open and let out all the steam and maybe that was a good thing. Maybe that was what he needed. 

Gascoigne pulled Henryk deep into his throat, and Henryk gave a helpless groan like it was just on the bad side of good, because it was. This was all very bad: a wolf promised to someone else, the Captain ignoring his responsibilities, Henryk wanting to divulge his own secret,  _ oh _ , but none of it mattered in that moment. Gascoigne was pulling on loose threads and Henryk couldn’t take anymore. He’d been frayed for weeks, hardly put together at all. He came apart in the wolf’s teeth. 

Feeling Gascoigne swallow a few times was almost calming. Henryk slowly leaned back, all his muscles unclenching from the release. His hands dropped away from Gascoigne’s hair, all messed up from his manic petting. He watched Gascoigne with half-lidded eyes as the other man took everything he could from Henryk. Some soft urge took hold of Henryk, and he started smoothing Gascoigne’s hair back, correcting his own mistake. 

When Gascoigne finally lifted his head, he licked his lips and smiled. “You look like you needed that.”

“Felt like the other way around to me,” Henryk said.

Gascoigne grinned, leaning in to kiss Henryk’s throat. “You’ll know when I need it.”

“Oh, was that you being generous?” Henryk asked, turning his head to give Gascoigne more skin.

Gascoigne settled his body back on top of Henryk’s and pressed his nose against Henryk’s neck. “You gonna tell me you didn’t enjoy it?”

Henryk had to laugh. “Okay, maybe I needed that.”

Gascoigne ran a hand down Henryk’s side, feeling every little curve and bump in his body. Henryk kept smoothing back the man’s white hair, liking the softness and thickness of it between his fingers. When Gascoigne slid his hand over Henryk’s thigh, he gripped tight and pulled Henryk’s leg up, encouraging Henryk to press into him. 

Henryk had to ask. “Do I taste as good as I smell?” 

“Better than I thought. Like good wine.” Gascoigne licked Henryk’s neck again, hand pushing up the back of his thigh. “And I hate wine.”

Henryk sighed, compelled by the way Gascoigne handled him without fear. “I’m flattered. Tell me, am I a red or a white?”

Gascoigne laughed quietly, gripping Henryk’s ass. “Which answer gets you to come back here for more?”

“Well I still have that ongoing mission, don’t I?” Henryk said, combing through Gascoigne’s hair again.

Gascoigne grinned, leaning into Henryk’s fingertips. “True. It could last a while, that one. You’ll have to give me regular updates.”

Henryk’s heart was starting to race. He could come back. He could have more. Gascoigne, all to himself. Sounded dangerous, in truth. How long before Gascoigne figured out what Henryk was? The man wasn’t stupid, and all it would take was one slip up. Smelling good wouldn’t save Henryk from losing his place with Valtr and the humiliation of discovery. 

And yet. 

“Tell me when you want to see me, Captain,” Henryk said, running his hands down Gascoigne’s back, loving the little satisfied noise he gave. “We clearly have a lot to talk about.”

Gascoigne nipped at Henryk’s shoulder. “I look forward to our next conversation. Maybe we could even have an argument. Think I’d like to hear you get loud.”

“I’ll think up something to disagree on,” Henryk said, eyes shut as Gascoigne softly bit at him again. 

Gascoigne took another deep breath of Henryk’s skin. “I should kick you out. But I don’t want to.”

“It’s alright,” Henryk said. “I’ll live. Will you?”

Gascoigne chuckled in his ear and it was such a lovely, deep sound. “I’ll live. A little unsatisfied for now, but yeah. I’ll live.”

When they looked at each other again, an unspoken promise lit up Gascoigne’s eyes. Henryk inhaled, the anticipation already building. He wanted to push again, rekindle the fire before the night was over, but he didn’t want to risk this whole endeavor, so he just exhaled and said, “until next time.”

Gascoigne smiled. “Don’t keep me waiting long.”


	7. Chapter 7

Henryk took his time dressing, mostly because he liked the way Gascoigne watched him— like the wolf was barely holding back from grabbing Henryk and making him stay. But once he had his coat back on, he knew it was over. Gascoigne did snag Henryk by the hips and kiss him on the neck once more before Henryk laced his mask back up.

“Thank you,” Gascoigne had said in his ear.

Henryk floated home. In his dreams, he was in shift, sprinting, going so much faster than he ever could in waking life. He felt larger than normal, powerful and new. 

The next day Valtr grilled Henryk about the clinic.

“How long are you going to be on this?” Valtr asked once he had all the information. 

Henryk shrugged. “I’m in a weird spot, you know that.  _ You _ put me there.”

Valtr narrowed his eyes. “Do you not like your newfound position? You’re basically employed by both of us at this point.”

Henryk threw his hands up in surrender. “I go where I’m told.”

Valtr gave a laugh. “Look at you. You’ve grown so much since you asked me for a job all those years ago.”

Henryk let out a sigh. “If all you want is credit for training me, it’s yours.  _ Thank you, Valtr. _ I wouldn’t be here without you.”

Valtr looked to the window, tapping his knuckles on his desk. “I remember when you could hardly hold your saw cleaver.”

“I’m leaving,” Henryk said, turning away. 

“Thank the Captain for me,” Valtr said with a chuckle. “You’ve been remarkably more entertaining since he came around.”

Henryk left Valtr’s office quickly, heat blooming along his neck. Every time he thought about the previous night, he had to pause whatever he was doing just to remember where he was. It had happened that morning as he’d showered, like he’d blinked back into existence. Then, again, on his way to the League. The memory of it all was dizzying and he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about it, again and again. 

The leather of the couch against his skin. Strong hands holding him down. Coming in Gascoigne’s mouth—

“Henryk?” 

Henryk blinked and looked over at Eileen. The woman was staring at him, eyebrow raised, arms folded. 

“Sorry,” Henryk muttered, taking a breath.

“I can leave,” she said, half smiling. 

Henryk shook his head. “I’m just tired. I didn’t mean to space out.”

“Sure,” she said, turning to lean on the railing. They’d come back to their meeting spot so Eileen could answer a question for Henryk.

“We have to keep this short,” Eileen said. “I’ve been asked to travel to Isz for some very quiet work. I have to leave tonight.”

Henryk frowned. “Isz is pretty far away, isn't it?”

Eileen shrugged. “My wings’ll be tired, but it should be an easy job at least.”

“You gonna tell me what’s going on?” he asked.

She put her finger to her lips. “You know how it is. The wolves are always curious about new shifts.”

Henryk didn’t press. Eileen would only say what she wanted to.

“So,” she said. “About your girl.”

Henryk turned to her. “Iosefka?”

Eileen nodded. “I knew her once, back in my training days. She always talked about helping people. Used to work for the city before going off to study. I guess she’s opened her own place now.”

“Do you know what her shift is?” Henryk asked.

Eileen frowned. “Come to think of it, I don’t. She was never interested in fighting and never had to show it off. You know it’s easier for girls in that way.”

“Does she have family?” Henryk pressed. 

“Raised by a grandparent who died before she left, last I heard, so, other than her husband—”

“Husband?” Henryk echoed, shocked.

Eileen tilted her head. “She’s pregnant, isn’t she?”

Henryk’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Her scent,” Eileen started. “It’s completely different than when I knew her. The only thing that’ll change a shifter’s scent so drastically is getting pregnant.”

Henryk exhaled and leaned on the railing beside Eileen. “I guess that makes sense. She always wear gloves so I can’t see if there’s a wedding ring, but her nurse called her  _ miss _ .”

Eileen made a scandalized face. “Perhaps a not-so-welcome betrothal.”

Henryk huffed. He hoped it wasn’t so simple as that. “Thank you for the information.”

“No worries, love,” Eileen said. “Be good while I’m gone, alright? Should be back in time for the moon. Do you have anything exciting to share before I fly?”

Henryk glanced at her sharp brown eyes, his best friend since he was a teenager. The one who helped him lie, who’d hidden him from others, who’d tried for years to set him up with girls. He wondered if he could tell her, but when he thought about starting that sentence, he didn’t know where to begin. As always, it was easier just to say, “nothing new. Take care of yourself.”

“You as well,” she said with a wink. “Stay dry.”

“Fly fast.”

 

-

 

When Henryk returned to the Cathedral Ward, he and Henriett met with Gascoigne to talk about the clinic. Henryk shared Eileen’s info as his ‘confidential source’. Henriett, thankfully, had been able to pick up on the nurse as well.

“She’s got a half-breed answering her door,” Henriett told them. 

“Fascinating,” Gascoigne crossed his arms. “Anything else?”

Henriett shook her head. “It was all I could smell.”

“Convenient,” Henryk said pointedly. “Think of what she could be hiding behind that nurse.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Gascoigne said. He turned his head to Henryk. “We all know you’re a hell of a spy. I’m not asking you to divulge your methods, but do you think you could get any more information on your own?”

Henryk stared at Gascoigne’s wraps. “I think I can, yes.”

Gascoigne nodded. “This one is going to be quiet. You two are the only ones I have on this, and I don’t really want it getting anywhere else, so keep it to us, okay? You two should inquire about that tour, and then, Henryk, I have a feeling it’ll be up to you after hours.”

Henryk nodded. He shared that feeling.

“And Henryk,” Gascoigne said, turning to face his desk. “Report to me as soon as you know something.”

“Of course, Captain,” Henryk said, heart thudding in his chest.

 

-

 

Henryk and Henriett made sure to return to the clinic during the day. They finally got to meet the healer herself. Still in full doctor’s garb, hands gloved and hidden from sight, she came to meet Henriett and Henryk in the courtyard outside the front doors. 

“I apologize,” she said right off the bat. “I don’t want to upset the patients by bringing in strangers. You understand.”

Henryk and Henriett nodded. Of  _ course _ they understood.

Iosefka was a tall, thin woman with birdlike features. Her hair was up in a flawless ponytail, and there was false kindness in her eyes. The kind of practiced look that you only picked up when you realized it was expected of you. 

“Were there any specific questions I could answer for you?” Iosefka asked. “So I’m not away too long. Otherwise, I’d direct you to my nursing staff.”

Henriett made some roundabout show of thanking her for her noble work. Henryk breathed in deep. Iosefka smelled of shifter and chemicals. Henryk couldn’t say for sure if she was pregnant, but animal was fresh on her. Inclining his head just slightly toward the hidden courtyard, he tried to discern anything else. 

“Thank you for your interest in my work,” Iosefka said without a beat at the end of Henriett’s spiel. “I work tirelessly for the sake of my fellow shifters. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have people to tend to.”

Henriett and Henryk let her go, and Henriett lowered her voice. “All up to you now, I’m afraid.”

Henryk eyed the building, studying the architecture, mapping a way in. “On it.”

He came back in shift after the building was closed to the public, padding quietly around the perimeter, searching for an open window. He was shocked to find, of all things, a back door propped open. It was almost too good to be true. For a moment, he wondered if it could be a trap, but there was no way Iosefka could know about him, so he slipped inside.

The smells were borderline overwhelming. Animal, human, chemical, blood, sweat. Henryk slunk down the halls, keeping against the wall. The private side of the clinic was not nearly as nicely kept as the rest of it. It gave the impression that Iosefka had barely changed anything from the previous owners’. There were books and furniture scattered through the halls, like she’d given up moving halfway through the process. Something more interesting must have come up to distract her. 

Henryk searched for something, anything, to bring back with him. There weren’t even any people to spy on. All the doors were locked and he couldn’t smell any single person through the mess of scents. He simply followed the hall all the way to a staircase. As soon as he put a paw on the first step, he heard a voice.

“Sweet thing,” a woman spoke. “Sweet, precious thing.”

Henryk bolted for the nearest wall, jumping up on top of a bookcase to get himself out of view. Footsteps hurried after him, and he turned to see the patient, Arianna, standing in front of the bookcase, hands raised up to him. 

“Sweet thing, come down,” she said. She smiled at Henryk with dull eyes. “She’ll kill you if you finds you.”

Henryk’s heart was hammering in his chest.  _ Then why are you bringing attention to me _ , he wanted to hiss. Arianna stretched her arms farther. 

“Little thing, it’s okay. I’ll set you free,” she said. “I have good blood. We’ll fix this.”

Henryk noticed a red swipe at the bottom of Arianna’s dress, like she’d dragged it through something. Arianna gave a little hop, trying to get closer. Henryk eyed the distance and leapt. He’d never run as fast as he did to the door that he’d entered the clinic through. Arianna ran after him, bare feet thumping on the hardwood floors.

The door was shut, of course. Henryk thought about shifting to open it for himself, but as the thought formed, Arianna scooped him off the floor and pressed him awkwardly to her bony chest. 

“Precious, soft thing,” she cooed, face to his neck. “I knew my little trap would work.”

Henryk cursed himself. 

“You’ve been watching over me,” she said, hollow smile glued to her face. “Haven’t you? I could smell you from the courtyard. My little angel.”

Henryk squirmed in her grip.  _ Shit. _

“You smell like chocolate and blood,” she said, holding him painfully tight. “Don’t tell the miss. She’d throw you in a stew.”

Arianna laughed at her own quip. Henryk searched the clinic for any means of escape, but all he saw were closed doors. Arianna came to one of them and drew it open, revealing a tiny bedroom beyond. When Henryk saw there were no windows inside, he panicked. Sinking his teeth into Arianna’s arm, she shrieked and dropped him.

Henryk dashed back down the hall, but a horrific growl followed closely. At that point, all Henryk wanted was a safe place to hide, but he had no idea where to go and a moment of indecision was all Arianna needed. She pinned him to the floor with a large, clawed hand. Henryk writhed under her, a dagger-like nail piercing his back leg. When he took in Arianna’s full appearance, he realized the grave mistake he had made. 

It seemed she was able, unlike most half-breeds, to control her partial shift. The mouth of a dog, but the eyes of a human, one clawed hand, one human. Her blond hair hung half over her face, and the rest was dotted with yellow fur. The scent of sickness rose up like bile in the air.

“ _ Sweet _ ,” she breathed, tongue lolling out of her mouth. 

Henryk hissed, completely involuntarily. He slashed his own tiny claws at Arianna’s hand and she yelped and drew back, giving Henryk just enough space to slip free and bolt underneath a large armoire on the other side of the wall. 

“Arianna.” Henryk didn’t think he’d be grateful to hear the healer’s sharp words. “Excuse me.”

He flattened himself and watched Iosefka’s boots approach the half shifted woman. There was a sound of metal clicking and Iosefka dashed forward. Arianna let out another yelp of pain and fell to the ground, covering her head with a hand and paw. She shifted back to human in a slow breath.

“I allow you out of your room as a privilege,” Iosefka said, kneeling down by the woman. “But if you keep torturing animals, I will lock you back up.”

“They’re just so soft,” Arianna mumbled. 

Iosefka grabbed Arianna by the jaw and forced her to make eye contact. There was blood dripping from a cut across Arianna’s cheek. “And you wonder why your shift is so demented. Quit drinking animal blood. And get back to your room. Micolash will be visiting us soon and if one single strand of hair is out of place, you’ll be back in the basement faster than you can say  _ Cainhurst _ .”

“Yes, miss,” Arianna said immediately.

“You’re lucky, you know,” Iosefka said, rising to her feet. “Not every scholar is as kind as I am to their subjects.”

Arianna took a shaking breath. “Thank you, miss.”

“Get up and go to your room,” Iosefka said. “Stay there until morning, you hear me?”

Arianna shuffled back to the room she had tried to bring Henryk into, disappearing inside. Iosefka stood there a moment, sighing heavily. “At least I have the other one.”

Henryk held his breath, waiting for Iosefka to walk away. The pain in his leg was getting worse, but he stayed still until her footsteps carried her down the hall. When he was sure he was alone again, he slunk out from hiding. Of course, the door to the outside was locked and every step he took was a knife in his thigh. He could feel blood in his fur. His best hope was to find a secluded window so he could shift and open it without getting caught. He pushed on every door he could find until, finally, one moved under his light touch. He hurried inside and managed to get the door shut behind him. It was the study that he’d once seen Iosefka taking notes in. The first thing he did was go to the window across the room and shift. 

Mistake. 

The puncture wound from Arianna’s claw ripped open, blood spilling across his dark skin. He barely stifled a cry of pain and forced himself to get the window unlocked. It swung open and, gritting his teeth, he shifted back and took to the rooftops as black spots danced across his vision.  

Henryk started dipping in and out of consciousness, suddenly unsure of where the best place to go was. He needed to get this info back to Gascoigne, he needed to heal, he needed to not disappear. Drunk with pain, he dragged himself to the League headquarters. Long ago, Valtr had promised Henryk a fail-safe in case something like this happened. Valtr always left the window to his office open. 

Jumping up to the windowsill was hard enough, and he completely missed the landing, collapsing in a heap on the floor of Valtr’s office. Henryk was only able to see slivers of the real world. Valtr was there, of course— always working. He cursed when he saw Henryk and spun around, searching for something. He grabbed a coat from a rack by the door and scooped the cat up into it.

“You’re going to get yourself killed keeping this secret,” Valtr whispered before quietly opening the door to his office. 

Henryk prayed to no one that if he died, he would die in his human form.

“Quiet down, you fool,” Valtr hissed.

Apparently Henryk had been whining. He focused on breathing, the smell of his own blood clouding his senses. When Valtr set him down, he whispered, “you can shift now.”

Henryk didn’t want to, God, he didn’t want to, but this was the path he’d chosen years ago when he ran away from the truth. He wasn’t about to give it all up just to avoid some pain. 

“Here,” Valtr offered his hand. “It’s not going to be pretty.”

Henryk touched a paw to Valtr’s palm. There was no preparing, so he just shifted as fast as he could. 

Once his hand was formed again, he grabbed Valtr with every ounce of strength he had left. The wound reopened, blood running fresh. That was the last thing he was able to comprehend: his own red blood soaking the white sheets he was laying on, and a scream that belonged to someone who sounded a lot like him.

 

-

 

“You’re lazy, you know that, right?” 

Henryk told his eyes to open, but they wouldn’t.

“What would your family say to this? Lying around for days. Completely shameless.”

His family? Again, Henryk asked his eyes to open, but they may as well have been sewn shut. 

“That boy has never had to work a day in his life.”

Henryk got his jaw to work, at the very least. “Shut… the fuck… up.”

“Ah,” came a cheery reply. “I knew you were faking it.”

The first thing that became real was the pain in Henryk’s leg. The second thing was the realization of who was speaking to him. Neither were pleasant. 

“Figures,” Henryk’s voice was quiet, despite how hard he was trying to sound normal. “You’d only come to see me when I’m too weak to kill you.”

There was a chuckle. “They call me an opportunist.”

“No, they call you an asshole,” Henryk said. Finally, he was able to open his eyes. The light burned and it took a minute for the Confederate’s infirmary to take shape around him. Then, the figure seated on the edge of his bed leaned fully into his view. 

“Brother,” the man said with a grin.

Henryk glared. “What do you want, Brador? And, for the love of God, don’t call me brother.”

Brador touched his hand to his chest. “We grew up together. What does that make us if not brothers?”

“There were thirty kids in that place,” Henryk said. “I don’t call any of them brother.”

“We were close, though,” Brador said, leaning in a little more, shaggy brown hair falling into his eyes. “Ah, I remember all our little adventures.”

“I’m not giving you any money,” Henryk said quickly.

“Honestly, Henryk, is that how you think of me, now?” Brador asked, brushing his hair aside. “Just some leech, here to take things from you?”

Henryk stared at Brador. “The last time I saw you, you were drunk and trying to steal my wallet, so, forgive the assumption.”

“I just needed money for a carriage home,” Brador waved his hand through the air. “Look, the past is in the past.”

“I’d prefer that’s where  _ you _ stay,” Henryk said, eyes narrowed. “Cut to the chase or I’ll start yelling.”

“Relax,” Brador sighed. “Always so pushy. Look, I’m coming clean, alright? I’m here to turn over a new leaf.”

“Great,” Henryk said, voice monotone. “Do it somewhere else.”

Brador’s thick brows knit together. The man was pale, lanky and tall, but nonetheless a capable fighter when he had to be. A shifter. “You’ve no love left for me?”

Henryk held the other man’s gaze. “Maybe if you didn’t only come to see me when you needed something. I’m guessing you’re about to ask me for a place to stay.”

Brador started to smile. “He read my mind. After all this time, we’re still so in sync.”

“Get out,” Henryk said. “My leg hurts and I’m tired and I’m not letting you into my house. I’d fear for the silver.”

Brador patted Henryk’s arm. “I understand. It’s only… you seem to have a nice little thing going on here with a bunch of non-shifters and I’m wondering how that came to be.”

Henryk’s lips parted, eyes wide. “You wouldn’t.”

Brador gave him a taken aback sort of look. “Wouldn’t what? Uphold some sort of moral compass? It’s not right to let you steal a job from a non-shifter.”

“Shut up,” Henryk hissed. “Fine, you need a place to crash? I’ll set you up, alright? But,  _ please _ , don’t stay long. I’m trying to live a quiet life, okay? That’s all I want.”

“Knew you’d understand,” Brador smiled wide. “Want me to fetch the nurse now that you’re up?”

Henryk sighed. “Sure… how did you find me here anyway?”

Brador quickly rose to his feet and brushed off his trousers. “I’ll never forget your scent, friend. Could track it to the ends of the earth if I wanted.”

Brador left Henryk’s side, opening the door and giving a cheery, “Oh, nurse!” Henryk knew this was a bad sign. Adella came rushing in and gave Henryk a quick check while Brador hung back against the far wall. When Adella uncovered Henryk’s thigh, he stared at the mess of ruined skin now stitched together. 

“The bleeding has stopped,” she said, cleaning the wound. “Something nasty got in there, though. Had a bit of poison in you, which is probably why you were out for three days.”

Henryk didn’t even want to process that. Three whole damn days, unconscious. No wonder his whole body was stiff and aching. 

“It’s on its way to healed,” she said. “Now that the infection is gone, but I’d recommend perhaps using a wheelchair for a few days—”

“No,” Henryk said immediately. 

Adella almost smiled. “A cane, then. Just ease the pressure. If you rip those stitches, I’ll give you a talking to and you’ll be right back where you started.”

Henryk nodded. “Yes, nurse.”

“I’ll get Valtr for you. He’s been eager to see you back up. Hold tight.”

Adella walked away and Brador shuffled back over. “What did you do to yourself?” 

Henryk glared at him. “I’m afraid that’s top secret information. You’re a civilian. And a fucking loud mouth.”

Brador burst out laughing. “He spares no judgement! Fine, then, kitten, I’ll leave you be. Just tell me where your house is.”

It made Henryk itch to give Brador his address without being able to give the place a once-over first, but he wanted Brador gone as fast as possible. Brador kissed his fingertip and touched it between Henryk’s eyes. 

“Rest up,” he said before sauntering out of the infirmary. 

Three days. Had Brador been running amok for three days? 

Brador and Valtr passed by each other as one left and the other entered. Valtr threw Brador a look before rushing over to Henryk. 

“Thank God,” Valtr sighed, placing a hand on his own forehead. “I thought we might have actually killed you.”

Henryk managed a smile. “I’m a bit tougher than that.”

“As much as I want to let you rest,” Valtr said, lowering his hand again. “We’ve all been very curious to know what happened. Do you want me to get the Captain?”

Henryk shook his head, glancing at the room to make sure they were alone. “I’ll tell you first. The, uh, uncensored version. You can help me stitch together a different version for him.”

Valtr sat down on the edge of his bed. “From the top then.”

Henryk gave Valtr the whole story with every scent he could discern and every bit of conversation he could recall. Valtr nodded along, slowly turning his gaze away from Henryk and onto the wall behind him. 

“That is much worse than I anticipated. I was hoping someone just stabbed you with a poisoned knife and sent you on your way.”

“Do you recognize the name Micolash?” Henryk asked. 

Valtr narrowed his eyes. “It sounds familiar but I don’t know why. If I do know it, it’s from some time ago.” He considered everything carefully for a moment, threading his fingers together in his lap. “Well, luckily only the patient saw you, and she’s half delirious so it’s not a truly viable witness. Easy enough to bend your story.”

Henryk stared at Valtr’s face, the overwhelmed expression. “What the hell do we do about this?”

Valtr took a short breath. “I’m very curious to get Gascoigne’s thoughts on the matter. I’ll send someone for him.”

“I can go,” Henryk said, pulling himself upright. He couldn’t stop himself from wincing at the pain in his leg.

Valtr put a hand on Henryk’s shoulder. “Henryk, please. You just woke up. Give it at least a few hours before you return to work.”

Henryk sighed. “I can’t shift this one away or Gascoigne might get suspicious.”

Valtr shrugged. “It’s not like he’s going to see your thigh. I can give you a few days off and you can pretend that it’s still bothering you.”

Henryk realized his mistake, and nodded. Valtr didn’t know that there was, in fact, a chance that Gascoigne would see his thigh.  _ Again _ . The lies were beginning to weave together into a rather ugly picture. “I just… want to be useful. I hate to lie when it’s not necessary.”

Valtr almost smiled. “Up to you if you want to let this one heal naturally. It’s not a pretty wound, but I understand if you’re wary about discovery. Gascoigne certainly expects a little more of you these days.”

Henryk didn’t like the phrasing of that sentence, but getting annoyed by it was only going to be more suspicious. “I think he’s got some vendetta against preventing shifters from working with non-shifters. Wants to prove some point about how well we can work together.”

Valtr raised his eyebrow. “Well, aren’t you the perfect poster boy?”

Henryk huffed. 

“What’s up with the man calling you his brother?” Valtr asked. “I didn’t think you had any family left.”

“I don’t,” Henryk said. “We grew up in the same home. He’s got a lot of rose colored memories of that place.”

“You owe him something?” Valtr asked. 

Henryk rubbed his eyes with heavy hands. “He knows about me. So…”

“Ah,” Valtr nodded. “I love blackmail. Let me know if you need help with him. If he spills your secret, that’s bad for me as well.”

Henryk watched Valtr rise from the bed with the elegance of some nobleman, his words an oddly comforting threat. 

“Thank you,” Henryk said. “I’m hoping he’ll be on his way in a day or two. He never usually sticks around for too long. I’m mentally cataloging my valuables as we speak.”

Valtr smiled. “Well, keep me updated. I’m sure the Captain will be by soon. He keeps asking about you. It’s getting annoying.”

Valtr left Henryk alone and he found that his exhaustion was catching up to him. Healing things as a human was frustrating. Henryk was debating whether or not he had enough time to get some more sleep before Gascoigne showed up, and then there was a voice waking him.

“I can come back,” a gruff voice said. “If you’re not up to it.”

Henryk shook his head. “Just… give me a second.”

Opening his eyes was harder than he thought it would be, but Gascoigne was there, concerned from head to toe. His expression, his posture, the tone of his voice— it was all guilt.

“Captain,” Henryk said and lifted a hand to his forehead in a weak salute.

Gascoigne barely smiled. “Fuck.”

“I’m doing my best here,” Henryk said, forcing himself to sit up. “Least you could do is not look so torn up.”

Gascoigne chuckled. “Alright, alright. You’re healing well?”

“I think so,” Henryk said. “Let me tell you what happened, okay? It’s… something.”

Gascoigne nodded. “Been waiting on pins and needles.”

Henryk invited Gascoigne to sit on his bed, which Gascoigne did so gingerly, and began to tell him the reduced version of the story. When Henryk dropped the name she’d mentioned, Gascoigne’s whole body went rigid.

“Wait— I’m sorry, what name was that?”

“Micolash,” Henryk repeated.

“You’re sure?” Gascoigne asked, leaning in.

Henryk nodded. “I heard it as clearly as I’m hearing you now.”

“Shit,” Gascoigne breathed, gaze dropping to the floor. “I knew Micolash. If it’s the same one. It’s gotta be. It’s not a common name.”

“You gonna tell me who he is?” Henryk asked.

Gascoigne took his hat off and tossed it onto the empty bed beside Henryk. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but… fuck it. Micolash used to live in the Upper Ward. He’s a wolf, few years older than me. He had a strange way of looking at the world. He was always getting into fights with the watchers about using the old blood, making people stronger. Didn’t see a problem with pushing at things, y’know? He fled the Ward a few years back after he got caught dissecting a half-breed. The wolves kept it quiet. No one has seen or heard from him since. Guess he started up his own research somewhere else.”

“So, should we break up Iosefka’s lab?” Henryk asked. “She could be doing the same thing herself.” 

Gascoigne took a deep breath. “We still can’t prove Iosefka did anything illegal. Technically, you broke in. Not the best testimony to give to the higher-ups. Nah, I think our best bet right now is to try to catch Micolash. They’ll want him back.”

“So, you need someone spying on Iosefka’s place at all times in order to catch him.”

“Someone  _ else _ ,” Gascoigne said. “You are in no shape to be on the job.”

Henryk digested this unhappily. “Yeah, fine.”

Gascoigne actually smiled. “But I do love your go-getter attitude.”

The spark in Gascoigne’s eyes sent warmth up through Henryk’s body. “I might be a bit of an overachiever.”

Gascoigne put his hand on the bed, pulling the sheet down just enough so he could lightly brush his fingertips across Henryk’s hip. “It’s good to see you awake.”

“Good to  _ be _ awake,” Henryk said back, voice low. He wanted nothing more than to keep pulling the sheets back. 

“How long will you be stuck here?” Gascoigne asked, hand drifting to Henryk’s, turning his palm up, thumb smoothing over Henryk’s skin. 

“Not long, if I have any say in it,” Henryk said.

“Suppose I wanted to hear your story again, when you’re more rested,” Gascoigne went on, the gentleness of his touch a little maddening as he began tracing Henryk’s fingers one by one. “How long should I wait to summon you? I don’t want to…exhaust you with every little detail.”

Henryk managed to breathe despite the tightness in his stomach. “I can swing by for an interview in a day or two. Your house is closer than your office, though. Mind if I go there instead? Just while my leg still hurts.”

“Sounds sensible to me,” Gascoigne said, voice far too husky for this public setting. “I’ll expect you soon.”

Henryk nodded. Nothing more needed to be said. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we got a rating bump tonight folks

Henryk was mad as hell when he finally hobbled his way back home just because of how long it took him to make this routine walk. When he stepped inside his house to find two strangers in his living room — Brador sitting across from them, laughing, mouth full of food — Henryk wanted to punch someone. 

“What’s going on?” Henryk asked.

“Henryk!” Brador smiled. “I’m just entertaining some old friends. You don’t mind, do you?”

Henryk wanted to tell Brador that he minded _ very much _ and that this wasn’t a public house but his  _ home _ and that Brador himself was barely welcome here, let alone his friends, but Henryk gritted his teeth and said, “‘course not.”

Brador winked at Henryk. “Thanks, brother.”

Henryk limped to his bedroom, wondering if Valtr would push Brador off the Great Bridge if he asked him to. That would be a nice clean end to it. Henryk locked himself in his room, thought about it, and then pushed his nightstand in front of the door, just to be safe. Brador, the older brother Henryk never asked for. Thinking about Loran wasn’t easy. Thinking about that home wasn’t easy. Brador showing up here and pretending like he wasn’t trying to fuck Henryk over was damn near impossible. 

That was what Brador did. Every once in a while, he showed up out of the blue for money or a place to crash or to ask Henryk to help him take care of a problem. Henryk couldn’t refuse without jeopardizing everything he’d so carefully built. Really, he was lucky that Brador only showed his face as infrequently as he did. It could be worse.

After years of being bullied, Brador was the one who stood up for Henryk. Brador fought the others off when Henryk couldn’t. So, when Henryk found out what he really was, of course he told Brador. Brador hadn’t shamed him, but promised to keep Henryk’s secret, and to keep protecting him.

That promise had twisted into a threat over the years. So Henryk found a way to protect himself, and left Loran as soon as he could, throwing himself into the League’s work. Brador, of course, always seemed to be able to find Henryk. But, so far, Brador had yet to ask Henryk for anything too crazy. Brador probably knew he could only push it so far before Henryk would throw them  _ both _ under. 

And, sometimes things were good. Sometimes Brador bought Henryk a drink and they talked like friends instead of whatever they were, but Brador never failed to leave a sour taste in Henryk’s mouth after each visit.

Henryk took a bath, inspecting the wound on his thigh. He wanted to rip the stitches out and shift just to heal as fast as he could, but that was a bad idea— not when Gascoigne was expecting him the way that he was. 

The fluttering in Henryk’s stomach was annoying and kind of delightful at the same time. He sank into the water and held his breath. What else would they do? What did he want? Henryk thought about Vitus briefly, how strange that encounter had been. The home he’d grown up in had sent Henryk to an actual school, given his intelligence, rather than homeschooling him like the rest of the boys. Most of the kids were there because of troublesome behavior, but Henryk had only wound up there because he’d had nowhere else to go.

Vitus. Henryk had spent a lot of his youth being silent to avoid being angry. Vitus had attempted to make friends with Henryk, who was just starting to deal with the fact that he liked looking at guys more than he should. Vitus saw right through Henryk— because he was dealing with the same thing. Vitus didn’t see as much of a problem with it, since he wasn’t a shifter. It didn’t carry the same weight. Non-shifters had a bit more freedom in how they coupled.

Henryk would never forget the quiet way Vitus had told him what to do. It wasn’t that they were attracted to one another, they just wanted to know. Henryk had been so scared of doing something wrong— all of his focus had been on the other guy, it barely even felt good, just kind of surreal. 

When Henryk thought about Gascoigne, though, he wasn’t the one in control. That thought alone was good— handing someone else the reigns. Maybe, finally, letting go of something that he’d been clutching onto for years. 

The want was enough to silence the doubt. 

Exhausted, Henryk got himself to bed and had a fitful sleep, the sound of Brador and his companions in the other room an obnoxious reminder of his own idiocy. 

_ It’s okay to let go of things for a moment, just don’t trust. _

_ Never again. _

 

-

 

After a day of being cooped up, Henryk took a carriage across town to Gascoigne’s the next evening, which he never did. He hated the small talk of the drivers and spending unnecessary money and the scent of the horses, but it was all in hopes of his leg not bothering him. 

The front door opened before Henryk could knock. 

“Forgive me,” Gascoigne said. “I caught your scent.”

Henryk stared at him, skipping right to a pleasant burn in his belly. “Careful now, I might start to think you like me.”

Gascoigne stepped aside for Henryk, speaking softly as he passed, “wouldn’t want that.”

The door shut behind him. Henryk took a full breath in, loving the smell of wood burning in the hearth and a hungry wolf behind him. Gascoigne set his hands on Henryk’s shoulders.

“Business first,” Gascoigne said, helping Henryk out of his coat. “I’ve got a detail watching the clinic in shifts. Iosefka is obviously preparing for something, so I can only assume it’s Micolash. The second he’s spotted, we’ll be there.”

“Are you worried about a fight?” Henryk asked as Gascoigne tossed his coat onto the back of the armchair. 

Gascoigne gave a little laugh, approaching Henryk. “Micolash was never much of a warrior.”

“He could have his own crew,” Henryk said, holding his spot and tilting his head up to keep his gaze on Gascoigne’s. The shifter was so damn tall. 

Gascoigne’s smile grew wider. “Yeah, maybe he does.”

Henryk’s breathing went shallow as Gascoigne raised both his hands to Henryk’s neck, thumbs brushing his jaw. “Sounds like something you should plan for,” Henryk said.

“Yeah,” Gascoigne’s gaze skipped all over Henryk’s face like he was debating where to start. “I will.”

Henryk touched Gascoigne’s stomach, sliding his hands up over his chest. “Anything else?”

Gascoigne set his lips against Henryk’s temple, voice just a deep whisper on his skin. “How’s your leg?”

“Just fine,” Henryk said, mind starting to fog up. 

“Liar,” Gascoigne said, a smile in his voice. He set his teeth on Henryk’s ear, just a soft bite. “How bad does it hurt?”

Henryk shrugged, eyes closing. “Oddly enough, I can’t feel it right now.”

“That’s a bit worrisome,” Gascoigne said, dropping one hand down Henryk’s back, pushing them together. “Should I stop?”

Henryk pulled on the collar of Gascoigne’s shirt. “I’d like you to make my trip across town worth it.”

A low laugh in Henryk’s ear was enough to make his body warm. All at once, this was real and it was such a relief to be back. 

“How long did it take you to get here?” Gascoigne asked. 

“I took a carriage,” Henryk said. 

“Oh, you spent money and everything,” Gascoigne scratched along Henryk’s spine, getting a little sigh of approval out of him. “I’ll be good, then.”

Henryk shuffled in even closer, wanting more of Gascoigne’s nails on his skin. Gascoigne read him easily, getting his hand under Henryk’s shirt, drawing pleasant lines just hard enough. Henryk would have been happy to stand right here— this kind of contact was entirely new— but Gascoigne pulled on Henryk’s lip with his teeth and the relaxation turned to anticipation. 

“How much time do we have?” Henryk asked quickly. 

The stubble on Gascoigne’s jaw felt good against Henryk’s cheek as he talked. “No one knows you’re here, so, as much time as it takes.”

Henryk brushed his lips against the corner of Gascoigne’s mouth. “An hour? Two?”

“I’d keep you here all night if I could,” Gascoigne breathed before catching Henryk in a real kiss. Henryk’s hands went to Gascoigne’s hair— he’d been obsessing over that feel— hating to consider the time limit, wondering how long he could justify staying. When he’d left his house, Brador had asked him where he was going. Henryk had merely grumbled  _ out _ before slamming the door shut. He thought about limping all the way home in a little while and trying to sleep over the sound of Brador’s obnoxious laughter again. 

_ I should be reasonable _ , Henryk thought.

Gascoigne parted Henryk’s lips with his tongue, careless.  

_ I shouldn’t ask to stay the night _ , he told himself, mirroring Gascoigne, pushing up against him.

Gascoigne sighed, breaking the kiss just to tell him, “I missed that taste.”

Henryk could hear the wolf, the impatience barely contained, and that was the end of his resolve. “I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

Gascoigne growled, hands tightening on Henryk’s body. For a moment, it seemed like he was angry, but the fire quickly died down. A smile rose back to his lips. “I have to remember that you’re hurt.”

Henryk watched that spark fade with a thundering heart, realizing he wanted it back, and knowing that he shouldn’t. “Slow’s probably better tonight.”

“That’s okay,” Gascoigne assured him, tracing his cheekbone. “Apparently we have a while to work it out.”

Henryk found himself smiling back, barely lucid, fingers resting on Gascoigne’s neck. All night. He could stay all night. 

“Can I get you off your feet?” Gascoigne asked before leaning in for another quick kiss. 

“Just say what you want,” Henryk told him, practically drunk from the attention and contact. 

Gascoigne’s eyes brightened. “I want you in my bed.”

“And?” Henryk asked, twisting a lock of Gascoigne’s white hair around his finger.

“Naked,” Gascoigne added, eyes on Henryk’s mouth. His hand was inching down the front of Henryk’s trousers. “Hungry.”

“Yeah?” Henryk didn’t even know what he was saying anymore, but he liked the way Gascoigne was speaking to him, every word a promise. 

Gascoigne chuckled, fingertips outlining Henryk’s erection. “Gotta leave something a surprise.”

“I hate surprises,” Henryk said, pushing his hips forward into Gascoigne’s touch. 

“I’ll tell you more if you come with me,” Gascoigne said, pulling away.

Henryk followed— magnetized, helpless. Gascoigne caught Henryk’s hand and led him down the hall. A rather beautiful hunter, Henryk liked the pride in Gascoigne’s step and the victorious smirk he cast back at him. Henryk was a prize, something to savor, and that was Henryk’s victory. He never thought he could be this good for someone else— someone worth catching.

Gascoigne pushed open a door, revealing a modest bedroom that Henryk barely cared to look over. What he did instead was walk straight over to the bed and sit on the edge. 

“Talk,” Henryk said. 

Gascoigne leaned his hands on either side of Henryk’s hips. “Lemme just…” his voice died as he pressed his nose to Henryk’s neck. Henryk didn’t mind, reaching up to wrap his hands around Gascoigne’s biceps, appreciating the solid feel of him. Carelessness took hold and Henryk turned his nose to Gascoigne’s skin, breathing in the layers of animal and human. He couldn’t help himself, the smell of desire thick like smoke in the air. Just one little taste would do. 

Henryk pressed his face in closer to Gascoigne’s shoulder, pulling on his shirt collar. His tongue flicked out, catching skin and salt and need. Another quick taste and Henryk could almost feel Gascoigne’s blood rushing, the way the shifter was barely holding onto decency, his hands trembling from restraint.

Before Henryk could try again, Gascoigne grabbed Henryk by the shoulders and wrestled Henryk out of his shirt. Gascoigne shoved Henryk onto his back and kissed him like he wanted that taste back, parting Henryk’s legs so he could get their hips together. Of course, Gascoigne’s grip quickly relaxed and his touch turned gentle again. 

“Which leg is it?” he asked.

“Left,” Henryk said, both charmed and frustrated that it kept getting brought up. He didn’t want to be weak and in need of care, but the fact that Gascoigne kept considering him was a good thing. 

Gascoigne flattened one hand on Henryk’s chest, holding him down, thumb drawing lazy circles over his nipple. “Tell me if it hurts,” Gascoigne said, studying him.

Henryk’s eyes slid shut as Gascoigne switched his thumb for his palm. Goosebumps rose up over Henryk’s skin and he arched into Gascoigne’s touch. 

“You will, right?” Gascoigne asked, though Henryk wasn’t entirely sure what he was referring to anymore, only concerned with the way the man was massaging the heel of his hand into Henryk’s chest. Henryk brought his legs up around Gascoigne’s middle, pulling him in.

“Henryk,” Gascoigne breathed, leaning his head down. “Talk to me.”

It was a cruel joke, to ask for coherence as Gascoigne set his mouth where his hand had been. All Henryk could do through it— soft tongue, hard teeth— was scratch his nails down Gascoigne’s back. The sounds Henryk was making were unrecognizable, just these wanting breaths. Gascoigne was licking one side of his chest and palming the other, lighting up Henryk’s body. Henryk marveled at Gascoigne’s open appreciation of him.

Hands skimmed down Henryk’s sides to his hips and Gascoigne lifted his head. “Make room.”

Henryk had no idea what he meant until Gascoigne gave him a smirk. “Or I can leave.”

“Come here,” Henryk said, catching the front of Gascoigne’s shirt. “You’re not leaving ‘til I say so.”

Gascoigne grinned, head tilting to the side. “Yeah? You gonna overpower me?”

Henryk pushed back from the edge of the bed, sitting up and resting a hand on his own groin. “Something like that.”

Listening to Gascoigne’s breathing, Henryk undid his belt. The shift was subtle, but he heard the excitement come through on the exhale, just the slightest catch of a growl. Gascoigne moved his hand toward Henryk, but Henryk stopped him with a quick, “no.” Gascoigne glared at him, his eyes alive with heat, but he backed off. Henryk started to remove his own pants, watching Gascoigne’s gaze flick back and forth, unsure where to look. He moved closer, and Henryk paused his undressing right above his stitches. 

“I don’t want to hear you say you’re sorry,” Henryk said.

Gascoigne almost smiled, but he was clearly on the edge of desperation. “I won’t.” 

Henryk fully enjoyed how Gascoigne was hardly able to contain himself. Henryk took his hands away and nodded at him. “You finish.”

Gascoigne took over, sliding Henryk’s pants off entirely, careful over the stitches, and then quickly onto the floor. He touched Henryk’s thigh gently, assessing the wound only for a moment before Henryk put his hand on Gascoigne’s chin, redirecting his gaze. 

“See,” Henryk said. “You wouldn’t leave me like this, would you?”

Gascoigne took a deep breath in, and when he looked over Henryk again, it was a much different kind of stare— the kind Henryk could feel. A smile briefly surfaced on Gascoigne’s lips before fading away. Gascoigne took Henryk by the hips and kissed him, Henryk’s naked body pressed against Gascoigne’s clothed one. The feel of Gascoigne’s lips was too good to pass up, and Henryk wound his arms and legs around the shifter. The only thing that mattered right then was how fucking good this felt.

The fever of their kiss began to mellow into something exploratory. As keyed-up as Henryk was, he remembered that they had time. He was allowed to appreciate what was happening, the wild and the soft. Gascoigne, nipping at Henryk’s lower lip, his hand digging into Henryk’s right thigh. Henryk, torn between wanting the kindness of the man and the bite of the wolf. 

“Let me up there,” Gascoigne said, smiling. 

Henryk didn’t really want to separate, but he backed up to the headboard. Gascoigne pulled himself onto the bed beside Henryk, pausing a moment before pulling his own shirt off. Henryk wanted to take a second, appreciate this still-new thing, but Gascoigne reached for his belt and Henryk’s pulse raced. 

Watching Gascoigne undress was unreal. Henryk’s body ached, a new feeling rising up through him. He wanted to touch, wanted to  _ be _ touched, but more than that, Henryk so desperately wanted to relinquish control.

Henryk heard his own deep sigh when he saw Gascoigne fully naked. The shifter smiled at Henryk, so unashamed to display himself. Henryk had never seen a body he liked so much. It wasn’t just Gascoigne’s size, or the strength in his muscles. He just looked good, goddamn handsome, obnoxiously proud, and it was damn well deserved. 

“You like that?” Gascoigne asked, leaning in.

He brushed his lips over Henryk’s as Henryk breathed back, “yeah.”

Gascoigne’s hands found Henryk’s hips and he guided Henryk onto his back, laying beside him. Henryk wove their legs together, careful with his thigh.

“You can touch,” Gascoigne said. “Don’t worry ‘bout gentle.”

Henryk actually laughed as he set his hand on Gascoigne’s hip. “I’m shocked.”

Gascoigne grinned. “Anyone ever tell you you look good when you smile?”

“Weirdly, no,” Henryk said, scratching lightly at Gascoigne’s stomach, catching a trail of hair. “Why? Someone tryna impress me?”

Gascoigne pressed his smile to Henryk’s cheek. “Yeah, I think so. Said he liked your laugh.”

“Oh, yeah?” Henryk asked, fingertips meeting skin, nose full of the scent of wolf and man fighting for control. “Too bad for him, I got something going on.”

The noise Gascoigne made, so low, when Henryk wrapped a hand around his cock, was enough to rob Henryk of his own breath. He felt Gascoigne’s tongue on his face and his own body yearned for contact. He turned his head toward Gascoigne and they met in an ungraceful kiss, so desperate. Gascoigne got a hand around Henryk’s wrist so he could guide the motions in a way he liked. Henryk did his best to pay attention, studying closely the fluctuating responses from Gascoigne— the feel of his skin, the sound of his voice, the way he did or didn’t remember to keep kissing Henryk. 

None of it was bad. 

Henryk started getting antsy as Gascoigne bit Henryk’s shoulder in earnest, teeth scraping along his skin. The sensation, almost painful, sparked bright inside him and he tried to breathe through it, not sure he should let on how good it felt. Gascoigne exhaled, long and deep, and dug his nails into Henryk’s good thigh.

“I wanna fuck you,” he growled. 

Henryk moaned, pulling Gascoigne’s hips into his, wanting it too. He didn’t care about stitches or bite marks or blood. He wanted to feel whatever Gascoigne wanted to give him.

“I’m right here,” Henryk said. 

Gascoigne snatched Henryk’s hand off of him and for a moment, Henryk wondered if he’d done something to offend. That is, until Gascoigne took Henryk’s other hand and pinned both of his wrists down to the bed. 

“I’m trying to be good,” Gascoigne said, inhaling deeply and looking over Henryk’s body. “You’re hurt.”

Henryk only sort of believed him. All Henryk had to do was spread his legs a little wider and Gascoigne gave this hungry groan. 

“What about what I want?” Henryk asked. 

Gascoigne sat back, gaze roaming. “Damn.” He pressed a kiss to Henryk’s peaked knee. “Can’t say no, can I?”

Henryk just shook his head, reward inching closer. 

“Don’t move,” Gascoigne said.

It was difficult not to drift toward Gascoigne as he leaned away. Henryk was so physically attracted to his body and his scent, he hated not to be touching if they could be. Certainly not when he was naked and hard and absolutely starving. He heard the slide of a drawer, Gascoigne rustling through his nightstand, and Henryk realized what he was getting. This was definitely happening. 

_ Thank fucking god. _

Henryk propped himself up on his elbows, brushing his good leg up against Gascoigne’s side. “C’mon, hurry up.”

Gascoigne’s low laughter was enough to keep the feeling alive. When he turned back, bottle in hand, he smiled. “We’re going to do this right.” He settled beside Henryk again and Henryk’s heart pounded as Gascoigne opened the small container. “Give me your hand.”

Henryk offered his right. The lubricant was cold when Gascoigne put it on Henryk’s palm, but he set the bottle aside, sliding one arm under Henryk’s neck so he could hold him, and closed his other hand over Henyrk’s, getting the fluid on both their hands. They worked it over each other’s fingers, Henryk watching Gascoigne’s eyes. The shifter was still smiling, looking rather pleased with himself as he massaged Henryk’s hand. No one had the right to look so handsome while getting exactly what they wanted. 

Gascoigne leaned in to fit their lips together. He pulled his hand away from Henryk’s, dropping it out of sight between Henryk’s legs. 

Henryk struggled to remain calm as he took Gascoigne back up, getting the wolf to break the kiss with a satisfied breath. But when Gascoigne’s fingers touched Henryk, slowly circling him, Henryk forgot everything else. The first press inside him, Henryk’s free hand found Gascoigne’s flank and he squeezed, sucking in air through his teeth.

“Easy,” Gascoigne said, lips on Henryk’s ear. “Fuck, you smell so good.”

The mention of his scent set him off. Henryk pushed his legs farther apart, head pressing back into the bed. He needed to know if it would be good, if Gascoigne could  _ make _ this good. 

“Relax for me,” Gascoigne said, voice quiet. “Can you do that?”

Henryk took a deep breath, swallowing hard. He remembered to move his hand, keeping Gascoigne hard, liking the size of him. Gascoigne pushed a little farther in, all the while licking at Henryk’s jaw like he just couldn’t help himself. It made it better, knowing how mindless this was making Gascoigne. When the shifter eased a second finger inside Henryk, it stopped being so gentle, but Gascoigne started biting at Henryk’s neck, delirious. Henryk felt excitement through every inch of Gascoigne’s body, heard it in his manic breathing, and  _ smelled _ it in the air— decadent. The wolf struggled to remain kind in his motions, but the restraint was admirable. 

The sound of his own panting was sign enough that Henryk was unwinding. Gascoigne was pushing deeper with his fingers and trying to kiss Henryk. The hand that had been curled around Henryk’s side dragged up his chest to find his nipple, mercilessly seeking reaction. Henryk actually gasped at a sharp pinch, and his first instinct was to bite Gascoigne’s lip in retaliation. 

The snarl Gascoigne gave rumbled through Henryk’s body, far too enjoyable, but he didn’t have time for shame— not with Gascoigne’s fingers buried inside him. All that was left was the truth of his own arousal, the way he moaned at the sound of aggression, and the wetness dripping from him. So fucking desperate, he started jerking Gascoigne off in earnest, fully lost and needing that next step. 

It must have taken Gascoigne by surprise, because for a moment, all he did was breathe with it, rutting his dick up against Henryk’s hip. But that wasn’t enough for either of them anymore. Gascoigne separated them one hand at a time and then pulled Henryk onto his side, far too rough for the stiches up Henryk’s thigh, but the pain that sparked along his skin just made him want it more. 

With Henryk’s back to Gascoigne’s chest, Gascoigne curled his body around Henryk’s. The ache Henryk felt from being empty again was so intense, it blotted out any pain in his thigh. Henryk inched backward, rubbing his hips up against Gascoigne’s cock. The shifter grunted in Henryk’s ear and his hand slid down between their bodies. Sense managed to break through for a moment, and Gascoigne slowed himself down as he entered Henryk. The pressure stole Henryk’s voice from him, his mouth wide open but no sound to be heard, save for his ragged breathing. It was  _ so much _ . 

It seemed Gascoigne was able to find humanity inside of Henryk, language coming back to him in a sigh of, “god  _ damn _ .”

Gascoigne set one hand on Henryk’s hip, and he wrapped his other arm around Henryk’s chest. Pure base instinct had taken over Henryk and he just latched onto Gascoigne’s arm for stability, unable to process anything beyond the incredible fullness. Gascoigne pulled out just a little, and pushed back with cautious movement. Henryk was panting again, anticipation of something harder driving him nuts. 

“How’s that?” Gascoigne asked, giving that same too-slow, too-shallow pitch. 

Henryk struggled for words, rolling his hips just a little, trying to encourage Gascoigne. 

“Hm?” Gascoigne was teasing him now, doing the same small motion. “Is that good?”

“Fuck,” Henryk fought for sense, forcing himself to take a deep breath. 

“Tell me what you want,” Gascoigne said, his own desire betraying him as he pushed in deeper. 

Henryk reached one hand behind him, finding Gascoigne’s shoulder, his face, fingers sliding through his hair. “I want…  _ you _ . Now.”

Gascoigne sighed his approval, holding Henryk’s body even tighter. Finally, he started moving. He buried himself deeper, getting Henryk used to it inch by inch before he couldn’t get any further inside. He paused a moment, bottomed out like that, clutching Henryk to him. Henryk heard a whisper of “so good,” before Gascoigne moved again. That’s when he picked up the pace, knowing he could get as far as he wanted. It was pure electricity and Henryk felt so alive. 

Delirium had taken hold. It was like Henryk could feel the scent in the air wrapped around him like silk. Shifter, pure and simple— both he and Gascoigne. It didn’t occur to him that maybe his own shift was reacting after years of being denied such contact, but it didn’t matter to him. The wolf was biting him, and the man was fucking him faster and faster. Gascoigne stopped biting just to breathe, “ _ oh, that’s it _ .” The only response Henryk managed was a useless tangle of words and harsh breath. 

Henryk kept petting Gascoigne’s hair, though, unable to stop. He wanted that soft feel along with the steady sparking of skin to skin, in and out. It felt like Henryk’s shift was pawing at his skin from the inside, looking for a way out. It wasn’t that he needed to change, but that both he  _ and _ the animal were drowning in pleasure. One touch would set him off, he knew, but he wasn’t sure he could get the words out what with Gascoigne so maddeningly busy thrusting into him. 

Henryk’s brain couldn’t keep up, but his own body was singing. He grabbed Gascoigne’s arm and pulled it down from his chest. Gascoigne, thankfully, didn’t need clarification, just grabbed Henryk’s cock and started messily working him, probably too hard, but Henryk definitely didn’t care. He gripped the covers, body bending forward from it, giving Gascoigne an a different angle to fuck him and that’s when Henryk shattered. Feeling a new depth with Gascoigne’s hand on him, he spilled onto the bed, not a goddamn care in the world. 

Panting, electrified, Henryk found himself smiling **.** Gascoigne’s focus went entirely into the way his hips were moving, which meant it wasn’t long before he met Henryk in that sweet release. He made this noise— Henryk’s name caught in a broken, half-denied growl. Hearing his own name like that was richer than wine and Henryk loved it, loved giving this to someone, and feeling it returned. _Equals_. 

The both of them lay in pieces, gasping for air. It took a moment before Gascoigne asked, “want some space?” and Henryk just shook his head,  _ no _ . 

Gascoigne wiped his hand on the bed before wrapping both arms around Henryk’s chest. He pushed his face into the back of Henryk’s neck and his breathing settled. The feeling of insanity faded and Henryk felt a kiss pressed to the top of his spine. 

“You good?” Gascoigne asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Henryk answered, threading his own arms between Gascoigne’s. Gascoigne made room for him, pulling him in closer. Henryk tried to turn toward Gascoigne, who met him in a lazy kiss. 

They broke apart and settled back down, but Henryk felt this urge to keep going. Not like he wanted more sex, but that he just wanted to be connected. He wanted to keep kissing, maybe taste him again, just because he could. He settled for lifting one of Gascoigne’s hands to his mouth, kissing at his knuckles. 

Gascoigne gave a sigh, opening his hand up for Henryk to get to each of his fingers in turn. Henryk barely stopped himself from pulling Gascoigne’s index finger into his mouth, thinking that might send the wrong message. 

Though, truthfully, there was no wrong message at that point. He would have gone for another round if that was what the wolf wanted. 

Gascoigne, however, leaned over Henryk to get his attention. “Alright, let’s see.”

He disentangled them and slid down to look at Henryk’s thigh. “Little weepy. Hold on.”

Henryk sat up and saw the wound had been aggravated by their nonsense. Gascoigne got out of bed and padded loudly to the bathroom. Henryk laid back, listening to his carefree steps. That was it, really. Gascoigne walked with such heavy steps because he was comfortable. He didn’t need to hide with Henryk in his bedroom. Henryk took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders.

He’d feel this for a while. 

Good. 

Gascoigne came back with a few things, letting Henryk brace himself before he wiped something over the wound. Henryk grit his teeth, the smell of alcohol in the air, but it wasn’t so bad with the sight of a naked Gascoigne tending to him. 

“Shouldn’t have to get them re-stitched but…” Gascoigne smiled at Henryk. “I may have been too careless. Sorry.”

“Can’t be mad.” Henryk met that smile with his own drunken one. “I wanted it.”

Gascoigne touched Henryk’s ankle softly. “Were you all talk earlier, or are you staying here?”

Henryk laid back, putting his hands behind his head. “I suppose I could stay. If you wanted.”

He heard Gascoigne laugh and the shifter pulled himself back onto the bed, climbing over Henryk to get to his face. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

They kissed a while, aimless, wandering over each other’s faces, until Gascoigne suggested they actually get  _ into _ bed rather than laying haphazardly across the covers. 

“Full of wild notions over there,” Henryk said, allowing Gascoigne to pull the covers down.

“I know,” Gascoigne told him, watching Henryk get comfortable. “Can you believe they made me Captain, spouting madness like this?”

“Hardly,” Henryk answered, waiting for Gascoigne to get in beside him before laying his head on Gascoigne’s chest before he thought better of it. “Must have been desperate to fill the position.”

Gascoigne chuckled and ran his fingers over Henryk’s short black hair, down his neck, before holding his shoulders. “You could wind up leading the League one day, you know that, right?”

Henryk felt an unpleasant twist in his stomach. “Nah. Valtr wouldn’t give that up.”  _ Also I’m a liar. _

Gascoigne shrugged. “If something better came across Valtr’s desk, I don’t think he’d say no. You’re the obvious choice.”

Henryk sat up and drew Gascoigne into a deep kiss before saying, “I don’t want to talk about work.”

“Got it,” Gascoigne said with a smile, pulling him back. “I’m all yours.”


	9. Chapter 9

Henryk could hardly believe that he fell asleep curled up against Gascoigne. He may as well have been purring. Less believable was when Henryk woke up in the middle of the night with the scent of shift and wolf in the air and Gascoigne licking Henryk’s index finger, asking very politely if he could fuck him again.

‘Course he said yes. In reality, Henryk moaned and slid his finger into Gascoigne’s mouth, feeling himself fall apart. 

Oh, it was a curse to have the wolf so desperate for him. Who knew when they’d have this chance again, though? Henryk bent to him, and Gascoigne held him close, much softer and not nearly so frenzied. He barely needed anything but Henryk latched onto him. Henryk still came from it, so turned on by being wanted in a haze. 

It was intoxicating. Gascoigne panting, speaking Henryk’s name in a whisper like some secret crush. The wolf crumbled in Henryk’s grip— the second time, so much easier than the first. A different shade. Afterwards, Gascoigne quietly laughed in Henryk’s ear like they’d shared a private joke before getting them both water. 

It didn’t cease to surprise Henryk— Gascoigne’s attention to detail. Henryk drank the water, grateful, and put up with another inspection of his leg.

“Well, if my complete lack of medical license means anything, I think you’ll pull through,” Gascoigne said.

Henryk had to smile. “Thanks.”

Gascoigne downed his own glass of water and returned to bed, pulling Henryk to him. All Henryk wanted to do was run his fingers through Gascoigne’s hair. It seemed to soothe Gascoigne as much as it did Henryk, so he kept it up for a while. Sleep returned quickly, though, pulling Henryk down into that other body. Always running in his dreams.

When the morning came, Gascoigne was the one who woke Henryk. “Hate to say it, but I think it’s time.”

Henryk groaned. “You’re not sending me to school, are you?”

Gascoigne smiled and sat up. “I don’t know how Valtr does things.”

Henryk stretched his arms. “Need me to rush?”

“You got a minute,” Gascoigne said, running a finger down Henryk’s chest. “It’s still early.”

Henryk took a second to actually look around the room. Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t heavy on décor or atmosphere. There was the bed, blue covers, and a large armoire with one door not quite fully closed, a black shirt sleeve hanging out. A small chair was by the window, and a little bookcase. Henryk pointed at the set up.

“What books do you have?”

Gascoigne smiled, kissing Henryk’s neck. “Some trash I read while I was fighting.”

“Gotta be more specific,” Henryk pressed, nuzzling his face to Gascoigne’s, coaxing another kiss out of him.

Gascoigne laughed low. “Some fantasy bullshit. Some sex. You’re more than welcome to take a look sometime.”

Henryk’s smile faded. “Is it… a good idea for me to come back?”

Gascoigne pulled away, tracing around Henryk’s ear. “I think we can make it work. If you  _ want _ .”

Henryk nodded. Of course he wanted more.

Gascoigne leaned their foreheads together. “Then we’ll figure it out.”

His low voice was a comfort and a thrill. Henryk had one more kiss before he got dressed. Gascoigne only bothered to pull his underwear back on, tying his hair up and peeking through the curtains over the window. A slice of early sunlight cut through the room. Henryk allowed himself a moment to stare at Gascoigne, who pulled the curtain back into place and gave Henryk a half smile.

“Can I help you?”

Henryk shrugged. “I already put my clothes back on.”

Gascoigne approached him, touching Henryk’s hips. “I was worried I’d be too hungry for you. I’m starting to think we’ll be just fine.”

Henryk didn’t want to admit to how deep his own hunger ran so he just kissed Gascoigne’s throat and told him he’d report back soon.

“Can’t wait,” was the breathless response.

It was barely sunrise when Henryk walked home. He didn’t mind being up so early, or the lack of sleep, or the pinpricks of pain in his thigh. More than anything he wanted to  _ shift _ . He wanted to feel his muscles working again, savor the pull and stretch of movement. His animal was happy, at least.

Brador was passed out on the couch when Henryk got home again. Quietly, Henryk retreated to his room to get ready for the day. He was washing when it came back to him.

“Gascoigne reads…”

-

When Henryk reemerged from his room, Brador was up and picking at a plate of eggs. “Early bird?”

Henryk stalked past him.

“Come on, then, who’s the lucky girl?”

Henryk scoffed. “Do you actually care?”

“Of  _ course _ I care,” Brador said, hand to his chest. “You’re my friend.”

Henryk took a breath through his nose. Brador smelled like shift and hangover. “How’s the job search coming along?”

Brador smiled, quickly abandoning his previous train of thought. “I think I’ve found something I’ll be quite good at.”

“Excellent news. Then you’ll be out of here?” Henryk asked.

The faster Brador was out of Yharnam, the better.

“Oh, yes,” Brador said. “I’ll be out of your hair entirely.”

Henryk nodded. “Well, I’m happy for you then. You going to tell me what you’ll be applying for?”

Brador made a considerate face. “I don’t want to speak too soon. I’ll let you know how the interview goes. How’s that leg of yours? Hope you weren’t too rough on it last night.”

Henryk rolled his eyes. “I’m going to work.”

“Fancy that, I’m also off to my interview,” Brador said. “May I walk with you?”

Henryk forced himself to nod. “Sure.”

Brador threw on a barely-fitted suit jacket and followed Henryk out the door. They walked together, Brador keeping Henryk’s lopsided pace. 

“You really took a beating, huh?” Brador asked.

Henryk shrugged. “It’s fine. I made a stupid choice. It’s my fault, really.”

“Ah, there you go, blaming yourself for everything,” Brador said with a  _ tsk _ . “You always do that. I’m sure it wasn’t  _ entirely _ your fault.”

Henryk eyed Brador and the wild look about him. Not Gascoigne’s pent-up wild, but just a ragged-edged, scrappy kind of wild. The kind you didn’t expect until he was charging at you, antlers poised.

Henryk couldn’t help but ask, “what have you been doing for the past…how long has it been?”

Brador snickered. “So many fine adventures, but I’m afraid you’d look down on my little spot of fun. No, I’m here, Henryk, because I’m leaving that lifestyle behind. I want you to know that I’m serious. I do feel bad about this little arrangement. I want to do some good in this world while I’m able, you know?”

“How very…altruistic,” Henryk muttered. 

Brador gave a pitiful smile. “You’ll believe me one day.”

“I’ll believe your actions before your words, Brador.”

Brador seemed to accept this, but Henryk had no clue what to make of it all yet. They split up at the Great Bridge, Henryk keeping to Central, and Brador heading toward the Cathedral Ward.   

 

-

Valtr shook his head when he saw Henryk limp through the halls of the League Headquarters. “Doing it the old fashioned way, huh?”

Henryk shrugged. “It’s easier when everyone  _ knows _ you’re hurt.”

“Well, the Captain has been so kind as to offer reports to us from his detail on the clinic. So far, nothing’s been spotted but I’m expectant that any day now something will shake out.”

Henryk nodded. “Yeah, me too. I’m just pissed I can’t be there.”

“I know,” Valtr said with a dead expression. “But you can’t do everything. Why don’t you let a shifter get the job done?”

Henryk looked to the window and the sunlight rising up over the buildings. “I can’t really do anything right now, can I?”

“No,” Valtr answered. “Do yourself a favor and just take a day. And no, I don’t mean wandering about Yharnam. I mean sitting in your house and not doing anything. For once.”

Henryk almost laughed. “Everyone’s on my case.”

“Heal that leg,” Valtr scolded. “And then I’ll send you back to work.”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you,” Henryk said, turning away. “You know where to find me if we get news.”

Frustrated, Henryk went to the bookshop closest to his home and bought three new novels to pass the time. It would not be wise to go to Gascoigne while he was expected to be resting. The shifter wouldn’t be home anyway, so Henryk sat himself in his living room and read. His mind occasionally wandered back to the warmth of Gascoigne’s bedroom and Henryk would catch himself staring blankly at the wall, pleasant goosebumps rising along his skin, before returning his gaze to the page.  

For two days, Henryk read and only rose from the couch to feed himself or use the bathroom. He was very surprised when Brador did not come home at all in that time. At one point, Henryk got up and hunted around to see if the man had left anything behind, but it seemed Brador had all of his possessions on his person and that the interview had gone well. It was a relief. 

Henryk was almost done the 2nd book, daytime drifting quietly into night, when he heard voices outside his house. He perked up, listening as they drew closer. It wasn’t Brador. 

Three short knocks drove Henryk to the door but the scent on the air had him rushing. He swung open his front door for Gascoigne, Henriett and Valtr. 

“What is it?” Henryk stared at the three of them, figuring there must be news of the clinic.

Gascoigne took two massive steps into the house, pulled his hat off and tossed it onto Henryk’s table. “We  _ lost _ him.”

“Micolash?” Henryk stared at Gascoigne’s back. 

“Yes,” Henriett answered, much calmer. 

“How did we lose him?” Henryk asked, staring at everyone in the room.

“I don’t fucking know,” Gascoigne whirled around. “My team swears they never left their post, but no one saw him go in or out. No one caught his scent. No one brought me  _ anything _ .”

Henryk had never seen Gascoigne look so angry. He was fuming, hand gripping the back of Henryk’s couch. He looked like he wanted to tear it apart. Henryk was almost surprised there weren’t rips in the fabric. 

“How do you know he was even there?” Henryk asked.

“She said it to her patient,” Henriett filled in. “She thanked her for being good while Micolash was there, and she has clearly relaxed since then. Whatever happened, it seems like it went in her favor.”

Henryk looked away, brain reeling. 

“It’s the perfect hiding spot,” Valtr chimed in. “Her clinic being in the middle of a city is rather ingenious, but I am confused as to how she could have possibly snuck him into the building, had a meeting with him, and sent him on his way without anyone seeing or smelling.”

“His shift is a wolf, right?” Henryk asked.

“Yes,” Gascoigne said. “So it’s not like he would have gone unnoticed.”

Henryk’s gaze dropped. “This… is…”

“Bad,” Gascoigne finished. “Very bad.”

Henryk hated seeing Gascoigne so disappointed, but there was nothing he could do about it. instead, he just sat on the arm of the couch and racked his brain for an answer. “It must have been someone going in his stead.”

“We’ve considered that,” Henriett said. “But it still doesn’t explain how someone got in and out without being seen.”

“Someone could be masking their scent,” Henryk suggested.

Everyone looked up at him.

“We know how beast blood works,” Henryk went on. “Maybe Micolash has access to something that tamps down your shift?”

“Like aconite?” Gascoigne asked.

“Not something that’ll control the shift,” Henryk clarified. “Something to disguise it.”

Valtr nodded. “He could have made his own scent so mild that your scouts would have missed it.”

Gascoigne’s mouth relaxed. “I don’t like that that’s a possibility, but it makes sense. Who the hell knows what Micolash has been researching for these past couple of years?”

“Exactly,” Valtr added. “A scientifically minded individually like him is no laughing matter. I wouldn’t put it past him to have figured out this set-up quite easily.”

Gascoigne made this soft  _ hmph _ and grit his teeth. “I don’t want someone like him to have access to materials like those.”

“We’ll have to track him down,” Henriett said. Then, quieter, “somehow.”

Henryk wanted to chime in. He knew if he got back in that clinic he could find something to make it better, some trace of Micolash and his ways, but that wouldn’t be wise in his current condition. 

“At the very least,” Valtr said. “Everything seems to be back to normal at Iosefka’s. I doubt we have anything imminent to worry about. It very well may have just been some higher-level check up on her research.”

Nobody wanted to say what they were thinking.  _ What the hell is she actually researching? _

“Thank you for the update,” Henryk muttered, rising from the armrest. “I appreciate being kept in the loop.”

“I should head back,” Henriett said, moving toward the door. “Are you two coming?”

Valtr and Gascoigne both turned to Henryk. 

“May I—”

“Can I—”

They stopped, both of them straightening their backs a little. Henryk must have appeared like a mouse in a trap for the look on his face. 

“Forgive me,” Valtr stepped up. “Henryk, please come and see me when you are feeling up to more work. However long that may be.”

Valtr code for:  _ I’m tired of waiting for you to heal like a human. _

“I’ll take care of myself,” Henryk told him. “Though, I might do better with a family visit.”

Henryk code for:  _ gimme a day or two more in shift. _

Valtr gave a half formed bow before opening the door for Henriett. Henriett glanced at Gascoigne, who made a show of retrieving his hat.

“Go on home,” he called to Henriett. “Just need to ask a question.”

She seemed satisfied by that response and the door swung shut. Henryk was grateful for her work-minded brain. He exhaled slowly, only to breathe in deep the scent of the wolf coming up to him. Gascoigne was clearly still upset, the wolf no better, but he was  _ here _ and they were alone, even if just for a moment. 

“Sorry,” Gascoigne whispered, abandoning his hat back on the table to come stand in front of Henryk. “Coming here was a mistake. Smells nice.”

Henryk almost smiled. “I didn’t even have to ask for you.”

Gascoigne’s fingertips brushed Henryk’s, trailing up his palm and his wrist. “It’s just  _ you _ all over. Except for…” He paused, tilting his head. “Do you live with someone?”

Henryk rolled his eyes. “I had a bit of an unwanted guest for a few days. I think he’s gone now.”

“You think?” Gascoigne asked, pointed.

Henryk leaned in a little closer to Gascoigne. “You’d smell him. He stinks.”

Gascoigne smiled, his hand circling Henryk’s waist. “Fair enough…”

Their noses touched, both of them breathing in. Henryk took the lapels of Gascoigne’s coat in his hands, drawing him in. 

“I can’t stay long,” Gascoigne said before placing a kiss on Henryk’s cheek. “I just can’t stop thinking about the other night.”

Henryk felt a pleasant shiver go through him. “Wish I could make you forget about this mess.”

Gascoigne wrapped his other hand around Henryk’s good thigh, his voice caught as a breath. “Oh, you _ could _ — just not tonight.”

“Kiss me already,” Henryk taunted. 

“For a scout, you’re rather impatient,” Gascoigne said, grinning. 

Henryk looked at his face, the wraps obscuring Gascoigne’s eyes, turning his expression into nothing but teeth. Henryk took an excited breath, cursed by their time limit. 

“I didn’t know wolves liked to play with their food,” Henryk said back.

Gascoigne hauled Henryk against him, kissing him without restraint. The feel of their tongues was still such a rise. Henryk reached up to touch the wraps, following the fabric back through Gascoigne’s hair. He didn’t undo the knot, just acknowledged it and dropped his hands to Gascoigne’s neck. 

The kiss turned slow, appreciative and Henryk knew the longer it went on, the harder it would be to stop. It seemed from the way Gascoigne sighed through it that he knew it just as well. 

They broke the kiss, Gascoigne still holding Henryk to him. “You’re seeing family?”

Henryk almost didn’t remember what he was talking about. For a moment, he considered the full truth, but decided bending it was best. “Oh, no, I just say that when I want Valtr to stop asking after me. But I am going to leave for a little while, just to heal in peace.”

“Smart,” Gascoigne said. “You don’t need anyone pulling at your stitches.”

“As much as I might like that,” Henryk found himself saying without thinking. 

Gascoigne’s hand turned to a fist at Henryk’s back, gripping his shirt, breath hitched for a moment. “How am I supposed to let you go when you say something like that?”

Henryk’s heart was starting to race, fingers inching down the back of Gascoigne’s coat. “That’s up to you, Captain.”

“You’re not  _ my  _ Confederate,” Gascoigne said back, lips resting on Henryk’s temple. “I can’t tell you to do anything.”

“You had no problem telling me what to do the other night,” Henryk said. 

Gascoigne laughed quietly, hands latched onto Henryk’s body. “You  _ are _ a knife.” 

After another inhale, Gascoigne released him. “We both have places to be tomorrow morning. Sadly.” 

Henryk raised an eyebrow. 

Gascoigne huffed. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

_ The girl. _ “I’ll be curious to hear.”

“Just do me a favor,” Gascoigne said. “Heal up fast.”

Henryk nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

“Goodnight,” Gascoigne said, voice much too warm. 

Henryk watched him go much too closely. 

With the house locked up for the night, Henryk prepped the space for the cat before undressing, neatly folding his clothes and shifting. 

He thought about curling up in front of the fire but changed his mind. He followed a good scent on the air, up onto the coffee table, and into the upended bowl of Gascoigne’s hat. Henryk was beyond caring. It was the closest thing he’d get to being held by the wolf that night.

 

-

 

Henryk made his way in shift to the league headquarters the next day. He waited for Valtr to sit down before hopping up to the window. Valtr’s eyebrows quirked. 

“Wondered if I’d see you,” Valtr said, not taking his eyes from his desk. “Come, come.”

Henryk leapt onto the desk, sitting on the corner, tail swishing as he waited. 

“Feeling better already, I see,” Valtr noted, finally looking up at the cat. “Splendid.”

Henryk stared at him.

“I’ve a theory,” Valtr went on. “Perhaps you’re not the only one with a shift on the smaller end.”

Henryk nodded. The thought had crossed his mind. 

“It wouldn’t take much for someone of your size to sneak their way in and out of the clinic,” Valtr said. “We can’t go rattling the cage without evidence, though. I wonder… do you think there could be another entrance around? Something inside the building that you hadn’t discovered?”

Henryk nodded again. There was plenty in that space he hadn’t seen.

Valtr tapped a finger against his chin. “I don’t want to send you back there. It’s too dangerous, and now Gascoigne has scouts posted so they might catch you. I think if Iosefka is a shifter, she would be a fool if she didn’t know she was being watched at the clinic by this point. Perhaps you could tail her as she leaves?”

Henryk stood. That was all the instruction he needed. 

 

-

 

Henryk kept a safe distance from the clinic, and Gascoigne’s scouts, as he waited. Iosefka stayed a bit later than public hours, then left with her bags. Henryk tailed her carefully through the streets. She walked quickly, steps sharp across the cobblestones. It seemed a perfectly reasonable plan until she hailed a carriage at the main gates of Central Yharnam and disappeared faster than Henryk could keep up. Annoyed and frustrated, Henryk gave up and headed home. Three steps later, however, he changed course.

Pawing at the porch door at Gascoigne’s felt so shameless, but he did it anyway. 

Gascoigne came to greet him with a smile. He scooped Henryk off the ground, chuckling. “Haven’t seen you in a minute.”

Henryk  _ meowed _ softly.

Gascoigne walked into his living room and sat on the couch, setting Henryk down on the table next to a mug that smelled of tea. Gascoigne pet Henryk a moment, sighing. 

“Do you make a point of showing up when I’m alone?”

Henryk just leaned into Gascoigne’s hand, liking his warmth.

“I don’t blame you,” Gascoigne went on. “Though, you can trust when Henryk’s around. He’s good, I promise.”

Henryk struggled not to react to this. 

“Hopefully he’s not gone for too long,” Gascoigne said, picking the cat up and laying on the couch. Henryk settled on Gascoigne’s stomach and Gascoigne let out a sigh. “Thanks for coming back.”

 

-

 

Henryk tried again to follow Iosefka the next day on the off chance that her carriage ride was a fluke, but after an identical repeat, he gave up and went back to Valtr, human.

“All better?” Valtr asked.

Henryk nodded. “Barely hurts anymore.”

“And how about you’re most unfortunate brother?” Valtr asked. “Is he still running around?”

“He’s gone,” Henryk said, waving his hand through the air. 

“Glad that’s settled. So, Iosefka is covering her tracks.” Valtr sighed. “I think this one is shut for now.”

Henryk bristled at the thought that she’d won, even if temporarily, but he couldn’t imagine doing anything else at that point. Not to mention…

“The full moon is imminent,” Valtr said, straightening some papers on his desk. “Will you be alright?” 

Henryk nodded. “I’m covered.” Eileen promised she’d be back before the full. She’d never let him down yet.

“Excellent,” Valtr said. “Well, Henryk. It looks like things will be quiet for a time, unless the scouts pick up on something at Iosefka’s but she seems sneakier than that. I’ll have you back on beast patrol at this rate.”

Henryk gave a soft scoff. “If that’s where I’m at, then that’s a good sign, right? It means no other troubles for now.”

Valtr nodded. “Correct. So far as I know. Off with you. Enjoy your moon.”

Henryk rolled his eyes. “Same as ever.”

“You should start a book club,” Valtr suggested. 

Henryk looked at his boss. “Feeling lonely?”

Valtr shook his head with a smile. “Oh, heaven’s, not for me. Perhaps you and the Captain could discuss your favorite titles. I heard he came home from the frontier with a box of books. No wonder you two are such fast friends.”

Henryk narrowed his eyes. “Should I be offended? It sort of sounds like you’re making fun of me.”

“Of course not,” Valtr assured him. “I’m simply happy to see you out of your comfort zone. Get going, then, I’m sure you have preparations to attend to.”

Henryk straightened his coat before heading out. It almost sounded like Valtr knew, but surely he’d make a bigger deal out of it if he did? Henryk wasn’t sure, and he sure as shit wasn’t going to ask. He’d just have to let it lie. 

As if summoned by their conversation, Henryk came home to an envelope with Eileen’s script across it. Inside was a note asking to meet that night at the public house. Henryk felt a prickling along his skin. Not annoyance, exactly, but restlessness. He had a few hours to kill and wound up straightening his entire house in a frenzy, disposing of every trace of dirt.

Cursed full moon. 


	10. Chapter 10

Eileen gave Henryk her usual once over, smiling. “You look a bit disturbed, my love.”

Henryk sat across from her. “You’re glowing, as always. How are you not so bothered by the moon?” he asked the last bit in a hush.

“Good luck?” She shrugged. 

“How do I steal some for myself?” he asked. 

She frowned. “A bit peaky this time, are we?” 

“I just feel restless,” Henryk said. “Itchy.”

“Maybe a drink or two will do you some good, then,” she said. “Help you to sleep.”

“Maybe,” he muttered. “Tell me about your mission. Distract me.”

Eileen smiled, pulling her shawl closer. “Isz is an interesting place. Very quiet for a city. They still believe in some old magic over there. Shifters are called changelings. They happen far less frequently. Some people even think we’re bad luck.” 

“Maybe we are,” Henryk said. 

Eileen gave him a smirk. “You grow more dramatic every time I see you.”

“Nonsense,” Henryk told her. “I’m as boring as ever.”

She laughed. “Ah, my mistake. Must have had something in my eye.”

Henryk smiled. “Don’t let the casual attire fool you.”

“Listen, I need to borrow you for something,” Eileen started, weaving her fingers together. 

“Hm?” Henryk narrowed his eyes. “What kind of something?”

Her mouth curved and Henryk scowled. “Well… there’s an event coming up. One of those obnoxious to-do’s in the Upper Ward. I have to wear a dress and you’re the only person I know who can dance.”

Henryk sighed. “Eileen… ”

“It’s the least you could do,” she said. “After scaring me with that hospital stint.”

“I suppose.”

“ _ And _ the aconite,” she added quietly.

“Yes, yes, I’ll go,” Henryk assured her. “I promise. I won’t even complain. Loudly.”

“My knight,” she said, patting his hand.

It was a pleasant enough evening, and Henryk would have fully enjoyed himself were it not for the feeling that the walls were shrinking around him. The restlessness was getting worse, but he was at least able to remain good to Eileen. She let him go with a hug and a packet of aconite. He still had a night before it was truly full, which made it all the more infuriating that he was  _ already _ so wound up. He usually didn’t resort to the pills until the full moon had actually risen. So, he tucked the medicine away and returned home, thoughts racing through his head. 

It would have been nice to go back to train at the league, get a few rounds in, but no one would be there this late. 

He could shift now, but that wasn’t it, not exactly. The cat couldn’t give him the fix that he craved. Who was he kidding? He knew what he wanted. 

Maybe the wolf wanted him too.

Henryk grabbed his coat, set it back down, picked it back up, set it back down. This was probably a bad idea, but how much did he care? Ten minutes later, he was walking up the street to Gascoigne’s home. The smell of the wolf hit him first, amplified by the moon no doubt. It was so strong and Henryk felt the urge to shift for some reason he couldn’t quite explain. He pushed on ahead, though, knowing the human reward would be much better. He didn’t even get to knock on the door before Gascoigne pushed it open, looking a little surprised to see the Confederate at his doorstep. The man wore loose fitted clothes like he was expecting to shift at any moment.

Henryk walked up to him, close enough that he could talk quietly. “You left your hat at my place.”

Gascoigne gave a half smile. “You came all the way out here just to tell me? Am I supposed to follow you back for it?”

Henryk put his hands in his pockets. “A smarter man would have brought it with him.”

Gascoigne leaned in. “A smarter man would know that tomorrow is a full moon and a wolf probably shouldn’t be entertaining this late.”

Henryk shrugged. “Luckily, I’m not that smart.”

Gascoigne sighed, still smiling. “Henryk. I don’t think it’s a good idea tonight.”

“We don’t always have to have  _ good  _ ideas,” Henryk spoke soft, moving in closer.

Gascoigne breathed in deeply. “Oh, you’re torture.”

“At least let me give you an update,” Henryk offered. “Inside.”

Gascoigne made a low noise that Henryk could  _ feel _ along his skin before opening the door. “Something tells me this is going to be a rather disappointing report.”

Henryk stepped into the house. “You never specified that I had to give useful updates.”

Gascoigne shut the door, leaning his hand on it, avoiding Henryk’s gaze. “Listen. You have to promise me that when I kick you out tonight, you’ll leave as soon as I say so.”

Henryk approached Gascoigne slowly, reaching a hand up to his face. He drew the man’s gaze, saw the energy radiating from him, and nodded. “I’m not stupid, I swear. But it’s like you said… I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

Gascoigne’s eyes were so bright as they zeroed in on Henryk’s. Henryk took another step closer, palming Gascoigne’s cheek. Gascoigne’s breathing was deep as he let Henryk guide him in. Foreheads touching, noses fitting against each other’s, sharing a breath just for a moment until Henryk couldn’t stand the distance. 

It was almost enough, the way Gascoigne kissed him, arms closed tightly around his body. It might have felt silly in any other situation to throw so much into a kiss— it wasn’t what they were there for, and yet, it still felt good. Henryk wasn’t sure how to feel about this desire for something soft pushing up against the desire for much more. Wanting both was confusing, so he hurried things along. 

Henryk tasted the moon on Gascoigne’s tongue. It erased his gentle thoughts, reminding him of why he came here— that restlessness. Gascoigne didn’t need any more permission. He picked Henryk up off the ground and carried him down the hall. Henryk’s heart was pounding as he started kissing at Gascoigne’s face, not caring about anything other than contact. All he wanted was more skin, less clothes, more touch, no more thinking. 

Once in Gascoigne’s room, they couldn’t get their clothes off fast enough. Henryk didn’t even complain at a ripped button, just helped Gascoigne get him naked. Gascoigne haphazardly tossed the covers aside before wrangling Henryk into bed, pinning him down. There was a moment of relief just lying underneath of Gascoigne, feeling his body, hearing him pant in excitement. When he felt Gascoigne lick his neck, hands roaming over his skin, Henryk started smiling. Delirious maybe, he could hardly keep himself from begging. He wanted to be moved, handled, pushed,  _ fucked _ . He needed Gascoigne to rid him of all this energy.

All it took was Gascoigne starting to work Henryk open— clearly struggling for some semblance of calm— to drive Henryk mad. He started talking, rambling really, just words interspersed with groans of pleased impatience. “Oh,  _ yes _ , that’s it, just,  _ fuck _ .”

Gascoigne went much faster than before, hardly giving Henryk time to adjust. Maybe if it weren’t the cusp of the full moon Henryk would have complained, but in that moment all he could do was bend back and ask for more. He was completely reduced to that desire for connection. 

With his eyes shut, Henryk gripped the sheets in both hands and dug his heels into the bed. “ _ Please _ .” 

The sound Gascoigne responded with was distinctly animalistic, building from the back of his throat. The wolf was showing himself. Gascoigne withdrew his fingers from Henryk and grabbed him with rough hands, flipping Henryk onto his stomach. Finally, he didn’t have to worry about stitches, and it showed as he dragged Henryk closer by the hips. Henryk gave this almost-sob of relief as Gascoigne leaned over him, turning him to shadow on the bed. 

Henryk braced himself as Gascoigne pushed Henryk’s legs apart. There was no easing this time. The wolf was too impatient. As soon as Gascoigne was ready, he buried himself inside Henryk, eliciting a yelp of surprise. The yelp tangled into a moan as Henryk’s body quickly adjusted to the fullness. Gascoigne simply gave in to his own lust and moved. Glancing behind him, Henryk was overwhelmed by the sight of the shifter, muscles taut, teeth bared, expression lost to the building pleasure. To get a glimpse of the wolf like that was exhilarating. It was almost too much, every thrust sending Henryk deeper into his own madness. But he rose to meet Gascoigne in his fever, wanting to hold onto that fire for as long as he could. 

Endless. Henryk felt endless tied to Gascoigne like that. Surely it was the moon bringing something out in him, but he didn’t complain. In fact, he relished the newfound energy, even if it made him completely mad for this. He’d already come once and was halfway to losing himself again, but it didn’t matter. He had no goal, no end in sight, just this need to keep fucking until he couldn’t stand it. He wondered if Gascoigne felt the same way, if this was some shifter thing or just them. Eventually, Gascoigne flipped Henryk onto his back again, setting his mouth on Henryk’s neck, nails digging into Henryk’s sides, before he picked up where he left off. 

This was what Henryk needed. Another precious moment of letting go. Tangled up and senseless, they held each other so tightly it hurt. Henryk pulled at Gascoigne’s hair until he got the wolf to snap at him and the sound was a match struck along his skin. It was clear that something was holding Gascoigne back from completely letting go, though— a restraint in his voice and the way he kept moving his hands, like he was remembering to be at least a  _ little _ gentle. Even so, it was like nothing Henryk had ever felt. The satisfaction from watching Gascoigne unravel inside him was so raw. Henryk was barely aware of his own body, so keyed up knowing what he could do to the other man. 

Afterwards, as they stared at each other, Henryk knew he was there to make a bad decision. He wanted to stay for as long as he could. Gascoigne took a ragged breath, leaned in like he might kiss Henryk and then paused. 

“You should go before I… ” he swallowed. “You should go.”

Henryk nodded, knowing that it was for the best, hating that he couldn’t have more. Still, he needed to be sensible. As sensible as he could be, after all. 

They pulled apart slowly, watching each other closely. It was difficult for Henryk to separate what with that scent in the air. He wanted so badly to break down and ask to get back in bed and just forget their responsibilities for a while longer. Maybe they could be reckless. Maybe it didn’t matter. 

Maybe it was just the damn moon, and Henryk should get out of there. 

“I’ll give you a minute,” Gascoigne said, pulling away with obvious difficulty— like magnets being wrenched apart. He drifted to the other side of the room, still breathing hard, watching Henryk with such intensity. Henryk could smell the wolf skin deep and ready to surface at the drop of a pin. Somehow, Henryk managed to get his clothes back on and head for the door. Gascoigne trailed after him, still so alive with that energy. Henryk hesitated at the front door and Gascoigne pushed his back to it, trapping him in a rough kiss. 

_ Ask me to stay _ , Henryk was pleading in his mind.

But Gascoigne pulled away and took this almost pained breath before saying, “goodnight.”

Henryk muttered, “I’ll see you.”

Gascoigne gave him just enough space to slip outside. As soon as the door was closed, Henryk could almost feel the shift taking place on the other side. Gascoigne’s scent followed Henryk all the way home. 

 

-

 

The moon was cruel to Henryk. Even with the aconite, he was a mess. All he could think about was Gascoigne and there was nothing he could do about it. It was a matter of etiquette at that point: you just didn’t bother shifters during the full moon unless you absolutely had to. 

Henryk couldn’t even trust himself to shift for fear that he’d just break down and go to Gascoigne’s anyway. So he sulked and groaned in his home for three days, spending most of his time trying not to think about Gascoigne, failing, thinking  _ too _ hard about Gascoigne and simply dissolving at the defeat. 

He began to doubt the aconite and went to Eileen’s to complain. 

She was definitely surprised to see a riled up Henryk on her doorstep. “Are you alright?”

“Have they weakened the supply? It’s ridiculous. I feel like a teenager.”

She started laughing and opened her door for him. “Come in, come in.”

Henryk dragged his feet as he walked, still so buzzed from the high moon. “Have you had any aconite recently? I swear, it’s not doing anything for me.”

Eileen had this knowing look on her face as she offered to take Henryk’s coat. “You must be warm, give it here.”

Henryk gladly shed any unnecessary layers before following her into the kitchen. She gave him water and had him sit at her table. Eileen sat across from him, chin propped on her fist. 

“You’re not going to like what I have to say, but here’s the truth,” she started.

Henryk stiffened.

“It’s not the aconite, love. It’s you.”

Henryk didn’t move an inch, waiting for her explanation.

Eileen smiled. “I forget that you weren’t raised with shifters. You don’t really know the rules the way that the rest of us do. It’s second nature to me, so I don’t always think to explain things.”

Henryk was still staring at her as her smile grew. “Just tell me who it is, Henryk. You obviously have it bad for someone. I won’t judge you.”

Henryk was bad at lying when it came to Eileen, and even worse when he was in such a state. “I…”

She reached over for his hand, taking one of his between both of hers. “It happens sometimes, when you’re not used to it, or when you’re not expecting it, or when it really hits you hard. Aconite won’t take the edge off of wanting to be with someone. The moon makes it very bad.”

Henryk started to deflate, knowing he’d been caught red handed and not having enough time to think of a proper lie. 

“No wonder you’ve been so dramatic,” Eileen said with a laugh. “Why haven’t you told me? There’s something about it that you’re unhappy with?”

Henryk’s gaze dropped to the table. He wasn’t about to tell her that he and Gascoigne had been messing around, but, maybe he could manage at least  _ some _ of the truth. 

“Look… ” Henryk hated the sound of his quiet voice. “It’s complicated.”

“Of course it is,” she said. “Henryk, I swear, I won’t judge. You might even feel better if you talk about it. I’m here for you, alright?”

He stared at their hands all wound up and sighed. If he couldn’t trust Eileen, what was he even doing? He couldn’t call her a friend if he couldn’t bring himself to tell her  _ anything _ . 

“Is it an affair?” Eileen guessed.

Henryk shook his head. 

“Is she—”

“No,” he interrupted quickly. “There’s your problem. Not a… _she_ at all.”

Eileen’s lips parted. “Oh.”

Henryk grit his teeth and kept staring at their hands. There was a moment when he thought she might pull away, but her fingers tightened and she laughed quietly. “No wonder you scoff at all my attempts to set you up. Oh, Henryk, I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not,” he said, looking back up at her eyes. “I’ve taken great pains not to show that side of myself.”

She frowned. “I’m sorry you felt like you had to hide it from me. But I understand. It’s not exactly the shifter way of doing things.”

“Definitely not,” Henryk sighed.

She smiled. “Not that you ever struck me as the ‘settle down and start a family’ kind of man anyway.” 

He shook his head, finally starting to relax. “Not exactly.”

“Will you tell me a little more? Is he a shifter?”

Henryk nodded. 

“Are you two together?”

“Sort of,” Henryk said. “I think.”

She smiled. “Perhaps you two need to have a conversation.”

“it’s not like we could ever be public about this. I’m just glad I have anything at all… ” Henryk said, surprised to feel a bit more truth in there then he was expecting. He  _ was _ glad to have this, even if it was driving him a little insane.

Eileen gave him a tilted smile. “I’m sorry that your life never ceases to be so complex.”

Henryk shrugged, returning the smile. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if it settled down.”

She laughed. “And he handles it humbly, as always. You have to tell me, is he handsome, this man of yours?”

Henryk was caught off guard, and felt heat rise along his neck as memories flooded his mind. The look on his face seemed to satisfy Eileen’s curiosity.

“Oh, he is,” she said, smirking. “Deathly so, I can see.”

Henryk just tried not to laugh. 

“Perhaps, one day, I could meet him,” she said.

“Don’t get your hopes,” Henryk added quickly.

She squeezed his hand and let him go. “I’m glad you told me.”

Henryk nodded. “Yeah. Me too. Just do me a favor.”

“Yes?” she asked.

“Don’t suddenly start asking me my opinion of men,” Henryk said, leveling his gaze at her.

She smiled. “I’ll do my best. But, maybe, just this  _ once _ you could—”

“Eileen,” he scolded.

She grinned, covering her mouth. “You’re far too easy to tease, love.”

 

-

 

After the moon had passed and Henryk’s blood calmed, he returned to the league and his spying. He tried once more to follow Iosefka after her shift at the clinic, to identical results as before. Frustrated that it really seemed to be coming down to the waiting game, Henryk went to the Cathedral Ward for a proper meeting with the Captain.

“Henryk,” Gascoigne said as the Confederate stepped into his office. “Let me guess. You’re feeling impatient.”

Henryk almost smiled. “I can’t believe we were getting close to something and now it feels like there’s nothing to be gained from that place. Not even the full moon has changed anything?”

“Nothing, until she slips up,” Gascoigne said. “But who knows how long that’s going to take.”

Henryk sighed. “I just want to be able to do something.”

“Trust me, I’m frustrated as well,” Gascoigne said. He was studying a map on his desk, and it humored Henryk to see Gascoigne and Valtr mirrored in exactly the same position. “Tonight I’ll be running a patrol around Hemwick, but tomorrow night, perhaps you and I could spend a moment strategizing?”

Henryk nodded, no less thrilled at the thought of returning to Gascoigne’s. “Of course. Here or… ?”

Gascoigne faced Henryk, and even with his eyes covered, Henryk could imagine the look in Gascoigne’s gaze. “My house will do.” 

“Tomorrow, then,” Henryk said, fighting off a smile as he headed out.

 

-

 

Henryk was glad to return to Gascoigne’s with his senses back to normal. He wanted a chance to actually speak to Gascoigne without any moon-driven nonsense. Gascoigne let him into the house and invited him to sit on his couch.

“I wanted to apologize,” Henryk started. 

Gascoigne’s brows knit together as he sat beside Henryk. “What in the world for?”

“I wasn’t thinking when I came to see you before,” Henryk said.

“Oh, hush,” Gascoigne stopped him, taking Henryk’s face and pulling him into a kiss. Henryk sighed his relief, finding Gascoigne’s shoulders, pulling him in closer. Gascoigne took his time, holding Henryk there for a moment while he breathed. “You didn’t do anything wrong and you left when I asked.”

Henryk gave a small smile. “Barely.”

Gascoigne chuckled. “It wasn’t easy to let you walk out the door, I’ll admit it.”

Henryk touched Gascoigne’s cheek, rough with stubble. “I should have known better than to—”

“Shh,” Gascoigne shook his head. “I’d been dying to see you, praying you’d show up, and then there you were. Like fucking magic. I’m glad I got to have that moment. Gave me something nice to think about while the moon was out.”

Henryk allowed himself to smile at that. “Well, then, you’re welcome.”

“ _ Thank you _ ,” Gascoigne sighed the words, drawing him back in for a lengthy kiss that felt like rain to soothe a drought. Henryk wound his arms around the shifter, and Gascoigne returned the embrace. 

“Still, it’s nice to have you back while I’m a sane man again,” Gascoigne said. “Can’t be mad for you all the time.”

Henryk studied him. “Do you take aconite?”

Gascoigne shook his head. “Afraid I’m not allowed.”

Henryk narrowed his eyes. “Not allowed?”

Gascoigne kissed Henryk’s temple. “I know. It’s bullshit. The Upper Ward has very specific rules for the wolves they raise. I can’t take aconite. They don’t want me doing anything that’ll weaken the wolf.”

Henryk frowned. “That must be hard.”

Gascoigne kissed a line down Henryk’s face, ending with a small nip at his chin. “Sometimes it’s okay. Sometimes I can even work through it. But then there are the months when it makes me feel like I’m losing my mind. That’s why I needed you to leave when I did. There are times when it just ruins me.”

Henryk watched something like pain surface in Gascoigne’s eyes. “Was this one difficult?”

Gascoigne smiled. “Not so bad. I had something to focus on. I might have been a little worked up, but I wasn’t completely gone.”

Henryk pulled one of Gascoigne’s hands to his mouth. “Tell me what happens when it  _ is _ bad.”

He started kissing Gascoigne’s fingers and knuckles, doting on every bend and line while Gascoigne spoke. 

“It’s sort of like being pulled apart. The wolf wants one thing and I want another. The wolf wants to run and feast and fight and I just want to rest and hide. Can’t even escape it when I’m asleep. I go to sleep as a man and I wake up as a wolf, or vice versa. It’s just this constant fight for control. I can’t trust myself when it gets like that. Just gotta lock the doors and wait it out. All because the watchers worry that aconite will make the wolf complacent.”

He shook his head and leaned into the couch, pulling Henryk closer. “Keep doing that.”

Henryk smiled and licked at Gascoigne’s ring finger. “I don’t want to bring anything sour up, but… before I healed, you mentioned needing to be somewhere. I’ve been curious.”

Gascoigne nodded, taking one of Henryk’s own hands and pressing it to his cheek. “I have to attend a…  _ function _ . I had to ask someone to be on my arm. It’s a delicate balance between feeding the watchers enough encouragement without encouraging Viola too much. Gods, I just can’t make myself care about her.”

Henryk felt both relief and guilt at hearing this. “Am I… making this more difficult than it needs to be?”

Gascoigne nuzzled his mouth into Henryk’s hand. “You make it better. Gives me something to look forward to.”

Henryk leaned up and pulled his hand away, pressing his lips back to Gascoigne’s, liking this quiet talk and the softness in Gascoigne’s words. 

“Do you actually have anything work related to tell me?” Henryk asked quickly. 

Gascoigne smiled. “Only that you’re allowed to investigate the situation however you want. At this point, I don’t think we’ll get anything without a little extra push, the kind I’m not technically supposed to make, so… ”

“Understood,” Henryk said, pulling Gascoigne back. 

_ Someone _ was going to have to keep breaking the rules. May as well be Henryk. 

He’d worry about it a different night. 

All that contact was starting to add up until Gascoigne asked if Henryk would like to join him in his room. They kept things gentle, questioning. _Can I touch you?_ _Is this okay? Do you like that?_ Maybe trying to make up for the chaos of their last meet up, not that either of them had been offended by it. It just felt right in _this_ moment. 

Henryk liked seeing both sides of Gascoigne, knowing he was capable of more than just roughness. It made the feeling of connection that much deeper as they curled up beside each other, kissing just because they could. Henryk wondered, not for the first time, how long he would be able to keep this up. How many secrets could he afford to keep?

He liked the look of his dark hand contrasted on Gascoigne’s pale skin. He liked how Gascoigne kept nestling his face against Henryk’s neck, like it was the most comfortable place. How he interspersed his words with kisses as he asked how Henryk was doing. 

“Just fine,” Henryk answered him, pushing his fingers through the other man’s white hair. “Tell me when I have to leave.”

Gascoigne’s arms tightened around him. “I think I’ll keep you for a little while.”

It shouldn’t have been so nice, just to lay there in someone else’s bed, naked, no space between them, but Henryk didn’t want to move. He twined their legs together and shut his eyes. As long as he could have this, he’d stay close.


	11. Chapter 11

Henryk hadn’t had occasion to wear his formal attire in a very long time. It took a bit of effort to revive the folded wrinkled clothes but he managed to make himself presentable and to hide a blade within the pockets of his jacket. Eileen arrived in a carriage shortly after to pick him up.

“You look dashing as ever,” she said, smoothing down his shoulder as he took a seat beside her. “Now, the last piece will be a smile to pull the whole look together.”

Henryk raised his brow. “You ask a lot of me.”

She grinned, eyes bright. “I tried.”

“So what is this whole affair about, anyway?” he asked. 

She huffed. “Honestly, I couldn’t tell you. The spymaster merely requests my presence at these things and I go.”

“Are you working or are you supposed to be enjoying yourself?” 

She gave him a look. “I’m  _ always _ working.”

Henryk nodded. Of course, Eileen’s boss was a bit of a workaholic herself and not too trusting, hence how she got the position of spymaster in the first place. Eileen was one of her favorites and often got roped into internal situations such as this. 

“Does Maria expect something to go wrong?” Henryk asked quietly.

Eileen shook her head. “I don’t think so, but she likes knowing she has another set of ears in the room.”

Henryk chuckled. “Of course. Who all will be there?”

“Shifters,” she said. “Though, your boss might make an appearance as well. It’s some good luck holiday that Laurence invented, so, just another excuse for people to dress up and drink wine and look fancy in front of each other. I’m sure the Captain will be there and a few other impressively held titles.”

Of course, Gascoigne was going. This was the event he needed Viola for. Henryk struggled not to frown at the thought of seeing them together. 

“We won’t have to stay long, I’m sure,” Eileen said when she saw Henryk’s change in expression.

Henryk managed a small smile. “I trust you’ll do your best.”

“A dance or two and then Maria will let me know when I’m free to leave,” Eileen said. “Easy does it, friend.”

The carriage slowed as they came to the gates which lead to the Upper Ward. It had been years since Henryk had been here— in much the same way. Eileen had required a dance partner for a different celebration. Henryk didn’t carry many memories of the night. They had gone to some nobleman’s ridiculous mansion, drank wine and shared a song before Henryk had been allowed to leave. 

Henryk frowned as he thought about it. Who’s house had he been to? It was for a wolf, wasn’t it? Yes, a wolf and his watcher. They were there celebrating a union, back when Eileen was working for the Commander— before her talents had been reassigned to spying. 

“Off we go,” Eileen said, offering her arm to Henryk.

He helped her down from the carriage and they set off on a walkway towards an obnoxiously opulent home. 

“Is this where Laurence lives?” Henryk asked quietly.

Eileen smiled. “Oh, heavens no. This is merely where he hosts events.”

“Of course,” Henryk muttered, eyeing the detailed architecture, the well manicured lawn and the smell of wolf on the air. “How could I have been so silly? This place is much too provincial for our leader to sleep in.”

She chuckled softly. “No more of that talk until we’re back home.”

“Yes ma’am,” Henryk said, eyeing the guards patrolling from the shadows. 

The air went from a chill chasing down their arms to soothing warmth as they entered the building. Eileen flashed two shiny invitations before they found their way into a massive ballroom. There was a string quartet playing in the far corner of the room and a few bolder couples were already swirling across a dancefloor. Most of the people were milling about and snacking or chatting away with each other. 

“What are we supposed to do?” Henryk asked in Eileen’s ear.

She leaned back. “Relax, darling. Maybe you could even manage to enjoy the evening.”

They drifted in toward the crowd. A few people greeted Eileen with smiles and handshakes. She introduced Henryk as her ‘old friend’ which almost always garnered the same coy smile and pat on the shoulder. Henryk did his best not to let it bother him. He kept his eyes on the person in front of him, trying valiantly not to search the room for the broad shoulders or white hair of the Captain. 

Eventually, Eileen and Henryk found a high table along the edge of the room to stand at. 

“I should have brought a deck of cards,” Eileen said. 

“No, I love watching people get hammered on alcohol that costs more than my monthly rent. It’s hilarious.”

She pointed at him. “You won’t think it so funny after you’ve had some. Hold on a moment. I’ll get glasses.”

She disappeared faster than Henryk could get the words out to ask her to stay. He felt the room shrinking as he stood there by himself, eyes drawn helplessly to the crowd. So many people had filled the space and, thankfully, he couldn’t smell any one person through it. In fact, it was overwhelming to be near so many people. It made him feel blind, somehow. 

Henryk dropped his gaze to the table, the neat white cloth that covered it and the intricate but subtle silver design woven through the fabric. 

“Heavens above,” a loud voice caught Henryk’s attention and he lifted his gaze. “Never thought I’d see you in a place like this.”

Henryk’s mouth dropped open. “Brador?”

“Brother!” The wiley man smiled and opened his arms. “A hug? No? Too soon? Very well.” He put his hands in his pockets and winked at Henryk. “Good to see you.”

“What the…? How did you con your way in here?” Henryk asked, leaning in to whisper.

Brador grinned. “I’ve got myself an honest job now. Speaking of, I shouldn’t be away. Perhaps we’ll bump into each other again soon. In fact, I’m sure of it. Goodnight, friend.”

Brador disappeared into the crowd as quickly as he’d appeared. Henryk’s heart was racing as he watched, dumbfounded. Eileen came back, putting a glass into Henryk’s reach, studying his face. 

“You look like you’ve seen a—”

“Do you know a man by the name of Brador?” Henryk asked her.

Eileen’s eyes widened for a brief moment. “Do you know him? He’s just been hired by the Commander himself. Bit of a weirdo. I’d love to know anything you have to tell me.”

Henryk glanced at the crowd again before speaking. “I knew him when I was young. He’s a career criminal. An asshole. How did he get a job working for the Commander?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. Must have done something to impress him. I’ve been poking around for information but it’s like he didn’t exist before a few weeks ago.”

“Yeah, he’s good at that,” Henryk muttered. “Coming and going however he pleases.”

“Hm,” Eileen lifted a glass to her lips, taking a sip of something. 

Henryk looked at his own glass, and the dark liquid inside. It smelled strongly of hard liquor and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stand much of it. For a moment, it seemed reasonable to just down the glass and let the evening slip away. But, as he breathed, he caught something on the air— just the softest note of familiarity. It was a strange sensation but as he breathed in the smell, it registered along his fingertips, the feel of someone’s skin and the scratch of stubble and a quiet laugh in his ear. 

There he was. Gascoigne was angled away from Henryk, talking to someone else. On his left arm, a woman in a soft lavender dress. Her blond curls were done up, pinned to her head with a flower but Henryk couldn’t see her face. Gascoigne glanced away from the man and the woman across from him, expression bored and empty. 

But how dashing he looked. His normal white wraps had been traded for black ones for the occasion and they were woven through his white hair which had been pulled up off his face. 

“Why are you sighing?” Eileen asked, trying to follow his gaze. 

Henryk quickly looked to the couple adjacent to Gascoigne. “Just admiring all the fancy people.”

She gave him a look. “Sure. Oh! There’s the Captain and his little bride-to-be.”

Henryk focused on Eileen. “ _ Bride _ ?”

Eileen was still watching them. “Well, I might be getting ahead of myself but all of the wolves I’ve known have all been through betrothals, so it just seems like it’s heading that way. Aren’t they cute?”

Henryk allowed himself another look in their direction. They’d shifted toward the quartet and he could see the girl’s face now. Probably around Henryk’s age, she was all smiles, clinging to Gascoigne’s arm. 

“I heard she’s a deer,” Henryk said, forcing his voice to remain level. 

“Adorable,” Eileen remarked. “From what I hear, the Captain is being a little resistant, but that can happen with shifters who come off the frontier.”

Henryk was full on staring at Gascoigne’s face now. He’d cleaned up his stubble, or had he completely shaved it off? His hair was too pale for Henryk to be able to clearly tell from a distance. 

“They get into that fighting mindset, and it’s hard for them to relax,” Eileen went on. “I give him a year before he settles down for her.”

Henryk took a sip from his drink. He hated this talk and the burn of the alcohol distracted. 

“How often do people break betrothals?” Henryk asked.

“Well,” Eileen turned to him. “The watchers are pretty strict. There’s a lot of planning that goes into the whole situation. It’s not arbitrary, you know? They do care about successful unions. But, I also know that, depending on the watcher, they’ll do some trial and error. But once that wedding comes along, it’s quite scandalous to walk away from someone.”

Another sip. Henryk felt his eyes narrow as Viola patted Gascoigne on the arm to tell him something. 

“Seems rude not to allow the wolves to find their own partners,” Henryk said. 

Eileen shrugged. “I think they’re just scared that the wolves will die out if they’re not careful.”

“That’s bullshit,” Henryk said. “Why do we even need wolves? So what if they die out?”

Eileen started laughing. “Rather spirited, aren’t we? I certainly don’t care, but tell that to you-know-who. It’s the world we live in. Laurence will do everything in his power to keep the wolves strong and in control.”

“Feels like the opposite to me,” Henryk said, gesturing toward Eileen with his drink. He took another sip before continuing, brain starting to fog up. God that drink was strong. “Feels like he wants all his little wolves in a neat line.”

Eileen’s smile grew. “Well, well. Are you still checking up on the captain with your little friend?”

“We talk,” Henryk said. “In person. Sometimes.”

Eileen glanced at Henryk’s half finished drink and back up to his eyes. “What do you talk about? The best way to hack off a beast’s head?”

Henryk smiled. “Yes, precisely. We sit around and discuss battle strategies and tell particularly gruesome stories to each other. The more blood the better.”

“You boys. Come on, let’s have a dance,” Eileen said, grabbing Henryk’s arm. “It’s the whole reason I brought you out here, may as well go for it.”

Henryk didn’t fight it, just let her drag him out onto the dance floor where several other couples had gathered. She wasn’t wrong and besides, that’s exactly where Gascoigne’s gaze had been directed. May as well get the man staring at him if he could.

Eileen faced Henryk and he bowed and she curtsied and they started dancing. It was a fairly simple tune and easy to match. Fighting wasn’t all that different from dancing when it came down to it and Henryk excelled at both. It was all about reading your partner and the environment. Eileen was easy to dance with. She smiled wide as Henryk lifted her off the ground and set her back down, spinning her around. Eileen liked to dance and always appreciated a partner who could match her, which was few and far between. Henryk rarely liked to draw attention to himself, but in this instance, he allowed it, figuring most of the people here didn’t know who he was. 

Except, of course, the one person who did matter. When the song came to a close, Henryk glanced over to where he’d last seen Gascoigne. The shifter was standing at the edge of the crowd, facing toward Henryk. Henryk fought to keep his face blank. Gascoigne was hard to read from a distance with the wraps on as his head tilted to the side just a bit. Viola turned to him and said something that Henryk couldn’t hear. Gascoigne just gave a slight shake of his head. 

Henryk turned back to Eileen. The quartet slowed their music and she pulled on Henryk’s arm. 

“No slow songs for us, let’s get lost.”

They made their way off the floor just as a particularly strong smell washed over Henryk. He barely stopped himself from wrinkling his nose. It was sharp and unnatural, almost medicinal. Henryk looked over the crowd, trying to pinpoint the source. Eileen was heading for an unoccupied table but Henryk stepped away from her. 

“I’ll get us something to drink, I’ll be right back,” he said and quickly headed toward the strange scent. 

The more he breathed it in, the more dangerous it seemed. It reminded him of the clinic and the half-breed Arianna. Henryk skirted around the room trying to figure it out. He pushed in toward the crowd and waded through the people. The smell grew stronger as he fought his way deeper into the heart of the room.

It smelled of half-treated sickness and desperation.

Henryk pulled up short when he found the person clearly giving off the scent. The man looked normal enough, middle aged with unremarkable features staring toward the dance floor, and Henryk wondered if this person even knew that anything was wrong. When Henryk approached him, the man straightened his back and spun around, catching Henryk’s eye immediately.

“Hello there,” Henryk said. “You look familiar. Do I know you?”

The man gave a laugh. “Oh, I get that a lot. One of those faces, you know?”

Henryk nodded. “Certainly. You look just like my old instructor.”

“Funny that, I’ve never instructed anyone in anything,” he went on, biting at his lip.

“My instructor used to say the same thing,” Henryk told him. “He was a great man.”

The other man laughed again, turning to look over his shoulder. “Well, if you’ll excuse me—”

“What section do you work for?” Henryk went on as if he hadn’t heard anything. “I’m a Confederate myself.”

The man gave a smile. “A non-shifter?”

“‘Fraid so,” Henryk said, sensing the relief in the other man. It was an old trick he’d used many times to set shifters at ease.

He laughed. “Well, isn’t that fun? How did you get yourself here?”

“On the arm of a beautiful shifter,” Henryk said. “You?”

The man put his hands in his pockets. “I’m an old friend of the Captain’s.”

“Are you?” Henryk smiled. “Fancy that, I’m a new friend of his. Where did you two meet?”

“Frontier,” the man said. “War dog, myself.”

Henryk nodded. “What’s your name? Maybe he’s spoken of you.”

“Samuel,” he said, voice betraying some frustration. “If you don’t mind, I was about to step outside.”

“Of course,” Henryk said, gesturing away. “Don’t let me stop you.”

Samuel gave a nod and started to push through the crowd. Henryk kept an eye on him, waiting a moment before following. At first, Samuel made it seem like he was heading for the exit, then changed direction back toward the dance floor. The scent was getting stronger and more distorted, almost like a shifter about to transform, only this wasn’t an ordinary shifter. Henryk noticed Samuel’s hands clenching and unclenching. Fearing for the worst, Henryk hurried after him and grabbed Samuel by the arm. Samuel turned wild eyes to Henryk, freezing up. 

“You know, I just can’t help but think the Captain would be delighted to see an old friend. Perhaps we should go get his attention,” Henryk said, stepping in closer.

Samuel forced a smile. “Oh, we’ve already had our introduction. No need to worry about me, friend.”

“He’ll get a kick out of it, you know. Old and new. Come on.”

Henryk pulled Samuel toward the doors of the ballroom, keen to get him out of the room full of people, but Samuel pulled back on Henryk’s arm with surprising strength.

“Actually, I think you and I have plenty to chat about right here.” Samuel gave Henryk’s arm another pull, getting him much closer than he needed to be. The smell hit Henryk full on as Samuel dug his nails into Henryk’s wrist. The look in his eyes was manic. “Is there something you’re not telling me?  _ Friend _ .”

Henryk held his gaze. “Easy.”

“You know, you don’t smell like a non-shifter,” Samuel went on. “In fact, you smell di _ vine _ .”

Henryk watched him take a breath in through his nose. 

“Are you one of  _ his _ ?” Samuel said in a breath. “He’s always been better at it then the others. The stitching and the mending. Can hardly tell you’re a fake.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Henryk asked.

Samuel started laughing, giddy and breathy, like a child trying to keep quiet. “No, no, don’t play dumb with me. You’re one of us.”

Samuel reached for the collar of his shirt and pulled down. Henryk could see a thick, barely healed scar down Samuel’s chest. His skin tone was noticeably different on either side of the wound. Samuel let go and gave a hitched sigh. “Does he not trust me? I’ll get the job done just fine.”

Henryk’s brain was reeling. “Of course he trusts you. I’m here for something else.”

“Bigger fish?” Samuel looked visibly relieved. “Oh, good, good, good. I’d hate to think after all this that he didn’t trust us to get one little thing done. I was so pleased that he gave the Captain to me.”

“I’m only checking in,” Henryk said, struggling to remain calm. 

Samuel nodded. “I just… get distracted by the music sometimes. It’s so lovely. Haven’t heard music in a long time. Oh, there I go again. Rambling on.” He swallowed. “I’m off. I promise. You can count on me.”

Henryk let Samuel go, hardly able to make sense of the situation. But he didn’t dare let Samuel out of his sight as the other man started maneuvering toward something with purpose. Henryk stayed as close as he could, heart hammering in his chest. Samuel paused, taking a deep breath. Henryk followed Samuel’s gaze, straight to a group of people talking and admiring the dancers. Gascoigne was in the middle, animatedly chatting with someone Henryk couldn’t see. Samuel was staring at him, seeming to be psyching himself up for something. Hands still flexing. The scent thick in the air. If this was as bad as it seemed, no way in hell would Henryk let Samuel get close to Gascoigne. 

Henryk and Samuel moved at the same time. Worried that he wouldn’t be able to close the distance, Henryk called, “ _ Hey! _ ” to get the other man’s attention, but Samuel was clearly on a trajectory and not paying attention to anything else. The world dropped away and Henryk’s vision zeroed in on the man.

Samuel’s body shuddered and the first glimpse of a shift taking place was all Henryk needed to justify breaking into a run in the middle of a party. He reached Samuel at the edge of the dance floor, grabbing at the man’s coat and stopping him short. Samuel spun around. 

“What are you—”

Henryk lashed out, fist first, his mind slipping into that other mode. Samuel fought back, obviously not trained for hand to hand combat, but still wild enough to present a challenge. Henryk didn’t care about anything except neutralizing the threat. Samuel had one hand shifted, claws swiping at Henryk, but he was so unpracticed that it was easy to avoid. Henryk moved quickly, the room falling away, and got in close. All it took was a few seconds and Henryk had his knife at Samuel’s neck.

“On your knees,” Henryk breathed, voice harsh. 

Samuel laughed. “What is this? A knife? At least show me what you can do.”

Henryk sliced a shallow cut along Samuel’s skin before returning the blade’s point to his pulse. “I said, get on your knees.”

Samuel stopped laughing and sank down. He stared at Henryk and spoke quietly enough that only he could hear. “They don’t love you. These shifters.”

The world was coming back to Henryk, and the ringing silence of the ballroom. Everyone was staring at them. 

“What the hell is going on here?” someone was demanding. 

Gascoigne emerged from the crowd, took in the scene and looked at Henryk. “Report.”

“I think someone sent this man to kill you,” Henryk said. 

Samuel laughed, eyeing Gascoigne. “Captain! Pleasure to finally meet you. I’d love to shake your hand.”

Henryk pressed the knife in closer.

Samuel giggled, glancing at Henryk. “Your his bodyguard?”

“Something like that,” Henryk said.

Brador, of all people, pushed through the crowd.  “Smells like piss and chemicals to me. Where’d  _ you _ come from?”

Samuel glared at Brador. “Nowhere.”

Henryk reached down and pulled at Samuel’s collar, revealing the strange scar. “I think he’s one of Iosefka’s.”

Gascoigne looked at Brador and then at Henryk. “Let’s get him the fuck out of here, then, shall we?”

Brador took Samuel’s right side and Henryk took his left. Together, they walked him out of the room, following in Gascoigne’s footsteps through the mansion and into a private parlor. Gascoigne caught a shocked guard’s attention on the way, snapping at him, “do your fucking job and find the Commander, yes? Thank you.”

The three of them sat Samuel down in an armchair and Gascoigne stood over him. “Who are you?”

Samuel looked a bit off, but the smell was dying down and his hand had shifted back to human. “Nobody. Nothing. A parasite, really.”

Henryk folded his arms, breathing hard. “Said his name was Samuel but that probably isn’t real.”

“Do you work for Iosefka?” Gascoigne asked next. 

Samuel’s breathing was coming faster and he kept looking back and forth between Henryk and Gascoigne. “Never heard the name.”

Gascoigne grabbed Samuel by his skinny neck and squeezed. “Are you sure?”

Samuel immediately scrabbled at Gascoigne’s hands. “Get off me! I’m a sick man! I just wandered in because it smelled nice.”  

“Bullshit,” Gascoigne said. “Who sent you?”

“God himself,” Samuel yelped. 

Gascoigne let him go and stood back a few steps. “You smell like a hospital. What  _ is _ that?”

Samuel gave him a wide smile. “You know, I think I’d love a stay in one of your nice boarding houses. What are they called, again? Ah, right,  _ prisons _ . Yeah, take me there.”

“You want to go to jail?” Henryk asked.

Samuel kept on smiling. “Better than where I came from. You’ll feed me and give me a nice little bed to sleep on. Sounds like heaven.” 

Henryk stepped forward. “Hold his arms.”

Brador didn’t hesitate, just sprang forward and twisted Samuel so he could hold the man’s arms behind his back. 

“What’re ya doing?” Samuel asked.

Henryk pulled on Samuel’s collar again, inspecting the scar. He took his knife and ripped a line down Samuel’s shirt, opening it up more so he could see the rest of his torso. Chest and stomach bare, all three of them could see the mess of his body— different colored flesh all melded together. 

“Well, well,” Gascoigne said. “You’re entirely new, aren’t you?”

The door to the parlor opened and a guard stepped inside. “The Commander is tied up with the rest of the attendees. He asks that you bring the suspect to the Cathedral Ward for questioning. He’ll meet you there when he is sure that this building is no longer in danger.”

Gascoigne nodded. “Can you get us a carriage?”

“Yes, sir,” the guard said, disappearing quickly. 

The door swung shut. Henryk could smell wolves in the distance, probably sent to patrol the grounds to make sure no other threats lurked. 

“You, Brador, is it?” Gascoigne asked.

Brador offered a smile to the Captain. 

“You’re the new one on the Commander’s team, right?” Gascoigne asked.

“That’s what they tell me,” Brador said.

“What do you smell on him?” Gascoigne asked, pointing at Samuel.

Brador sniffed a bit. “Something fishy, sir.”

“Does he smell like a normal shifter?” Henryk asked.

Brador shook his head. “No, not at all. Smells like sickness to me. But… not quite right.”

Gascoigne huffed like he wanted the scent out of his nose. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.”

The guard came back shortly to inform them that he had secured a carriage outside. They hurried Samuel through the halls and out of sight of the party-goers. 

“Sorry to ruin your nice night,” Brador said to Gascoigne and Henryk when they were inside the carriage. “I think I saw you both with lovely people at your sides.”

“In this line of work,” Gascoigne started. “You always have to be ready to put your personal life aside.”

Henryk just shrugged. “I was dragged here by a friend.”

Gascoigne eyed him. “Funny that we wound up here at the same time.”

“My friend thinks it’s hilarious to make me dance in front of people.”

Gascoigne looked like he wanted to ask a question, but refrained, turning to Brador instead. “I heard you made quite an impression with the Commander.”

Brador shrugged. “I happened to fill a niche need in the team.”

Gascoigne folded his arms. “He takes a liking to unique skill sets.”

Henryk was bracing himself for Brador to say something stupid and reveal their connection, but all the man did was smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is,” Gascoigne said. 

They spent the rest of the ride in silence, save for when Henryk caught Samuel staring at him and snapped, “look somewhere else.”

Samuel startled and turned to the window. The adrenaline was starting to fade, and Henryk felt the heaviness from the drink he’d had settling into his limbs. Everything was fine, Gascoigne was safe and it seemed that Brador didn’t intend to spoil anything. Still, he felt this protective urge coursing through him.

When they finally returned to the Cathedral Ward they escorted their captive inside the prison to be questioned. Henryk could already tell it wouldn’t go anywhere. Samuel had taken a sort of dreamy look about him and he hadn’t spoken a word since they’d left the party. Gascoigne gave a sigh as they stood outside the front of the building. 

“Tell me what happened before I got there,” Gascoigne said to Henryk.

Henryk twisted the story. “I saw him in the crowd and he seemed off so I tried talking to him. He smelled something on me that clearly confused him. I don’t know what it was but he showed me that scar. I wonder if he could smell the remnants of the poison that Arianna infected me with and thought it was familiar to him. For a moment, he thought we were on the same side of things. But he never dropped anyone’s name, so I can’t be sure who sent him. Just referred to someone as  _ he _ . Might be Micolash?”

Gascoigne rubbed his temples. “Damnit. Maybe we can get him to spill someone’s name or location. Thank you, Brador. I’m sure the Commander will be here soon.”

Brador nodded. “Of course. But, perhaps you could let the non-shifter go for the night. You and I can be witness enough.”

Henryk shook his head. “I want to see this through.”

“No, he’s right,” Gascoigne said, setting a hand on Henryk’s shoulder. “You very well may have saved my life tonight. The least I can do is spare you the paperwork in the meantime. Get some sleep.”

Henryk stared up at him. “I suppose you have a point.”

“It’s okay,” Gascoigne said, pulling his hand away, but not before softly squeezing Henryk’s shoulder. Henryk was overwhelmed by a desire to touch him back in any way, just to confirm that the man was actually there and not about to get gutted by some insane shifter, but that wasn’t a good idea.

“I’ll check in tomorrow,” Henryk said, taking a step away, pained by the distance. 

“Goodnight,” Gascoigne said. “And thank you, again.”

Henryk couldn’t think of anything else that he could say aloud, so he just walked away. He hated to leave the scene, hated to let Gascoigne out of his sight after such an obvious threat, but nothing could justify staying against orders.  _ Sorry, Captain, but I’d really appreciate a hug right about now _ . Not here, not now, not ever.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait.   
> life and all that.   
> this is not a guarantee that i'll finish this completely, but, for now...

Henryk’s dreams were plagued by images of Samuel shifting into some hideous approximation of a beast and slicing Gascoigne’s throat open. Suffice it to say, he did not sleep well. After the third time he’d woken up from a nightmare, he shuffled into his living room, angry, and retrieved Gascoigne’s hat, placing it on his nightstand so that he could awake to a pleasant scent instead of nothingness. It was enough of a comfort to ease his tired mind.

Returning to the League headquarters, Henryk went straight to Valtr to update him and see if he had any news on the subject.

“A wild night,” Valtr remarked. “I haven’t heard anything myself, but you have my permission to go ask the Cathedral Ward.”

Henryk left immediately. He found a very tired Gascoigne, slumped in his desk chair, breathing heavy. 

“I was up half the night,” Gascoigne told him. “Trying to get something out of him, but nothing. Not a damn thing. He just clammed up. The only thing we could pick up on was the smell of the woods. It doesn’t help much.”

Henryk nodded. “I kind of figured he wouldn’t talk. But the woods? Do you think that’s important?”

Gascoigne sighed. “For all I know it’s just a trick to distract us. How are you holding up? You don’t look too great.”

Henryk gave a half-hearted laugh. “Didn’t sleep so good.”

“Here I thought I was doing you a favor by getting you home,” Gascoigne said. “Sorry.”

Henryk waved it off. “I’ll be okay. I’m just glad I was there.”

“Me too,” Gascoigne said. 

The silence felt heavy with words that Henryk couldn’t say. It annoyed him, how deeply he was affected by Gascoigne being in danger like that. He had no intention of voicing those concerns, but he still ached to just  _ touch _ Gascoigne once more. Anything to soothe the worries. 

“I appreciate you coming out here,” Gascoigne went on. “Thorough, as always.”

Henryk stuck his hands in his pockets. “Thanks for putting up with me.”

Gascoigne smiled. “My pleasure. I think I’m going to call it early today and try to get some of the sleep I missed last night. Feel free to come find me if any grand ideas catch up with you.”

“I will,” Henryk promised, moving toward the door.

“Henryk,” Gascoigne started, getting him to turn back. Gascoigne looked a little lost, like he’d been caught stealing. “I… that was a hell of a dance you shared with that girl.”

Henryk smirked. “Eileen? Don’t let her hear you calling her ‘girl’. She’s got a few years on me.”

Gascoigne nodded. “Good to know.”

Was he jealous? Good. Henryk fought off a smile. “Give me a few hours to brainstorm.”

“You know where to find me,” Gascoigne said. “Knock loudly in case I’m asleep.”

That was clear enough instruction. Henryk left Gascoigne’s office feeling renewed. He’d get his closure in a little while. He passed the time at the League with Valtr, discussing possibilities. He mentioned that Gascoigne had smelled the forest on Samuel. He also mentioned something that he realized he’d gone long enough without being honest about.

“You can shift your senses at will?” Valtr echoed after Henryk tried to explain. 

Henryk nodded. “I can shift any part of myself at will.”

Valtr opened and closed his mouth. “I’ve never heard of anyone being able to isolate and shift specific aspects of their own sense of smell or sight like that. Body parts, sure, mostly the hands, but… this is rather unique.”

“Trust me, I know,” Henryk admitted. “And I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.”

“I understand,” Valtr said. “You’re navigating the world differently. It’s hard to know who will react and how. Still, I’m glad you told me. But it makes me wonder. You said Arianna liked your scent,  _ and _ this Samuel does as well. You must possess qualities unknown to other shifters or else it wouldn’t be such a big deal.”

“Don’t make my head hurt,” Henryk said. “I’m dealing with enough.”

“I just don’t understand how someone could  _ create _ a shifter,” Valtr kept going. “This is infuriating. I wish we could get you back in that clinic, honestly, but I can’t afford to risk you again.”

“I know,” Henryk muttered. “I don’t know if it’d be worse to get caught by Iosefka or the Captain’s guard.”

Valtr cleared his throat. “Henryk.”

Henryk looked at his boss.

“What are you going to do if the time comes and you’ve been tied up in too many secrets?” Valtr asked.

Henryk looked away from him. “I won’t implicate you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I appreciate the gesture, but that’s not what I’m asking,” Valtr said. “I mean this genuinely. What will you do if you can’t work for either of us?”

Henryk took a breath, though it was tight in his chest. The thought was far more painful than it ever had been before. A life, cut off from everyone in Yharnam. “If I have to leave, then I will. I hear Isz is a quiet city. Maybe I could find a place there.”

Valtr made a noise. “Glad to know you’re not actively planning on getting discovered.”

Henryk furrowed his brow. “I’m not about to throw this away.”

Valtr nodded. “As your boss, I’m happy to hear that. As someone who’s known you for many years now, I wonder if you will ever make more selfish plans for yourself.”

Henryk studied Valtr’s eyes. He didn’t know what to do with this conversation. After a moment, Henryk actually laughed. “Is this your way of telling me to get a life?”

Valtr didn’t smile, but his eyes held a light in them. “We can’t all be blind pieces in the machine. As much as I may disagree with our beloved Laurence’s particular way of governing, a party every once in a while isn’t such a bad idea. The man never stops smiling, does he?”

Henryk snickered. “No, he doesn’t. But he also probably doesn’t know the first thing about how to hold his own in a fight.”

“Well,” Valtr glanced down at his desk. “With a team of wolves at his disposal, hand picked by the Commander, he doesn’t have much to worry about. Oh, but I’m being petty.”

“I won’t say a word,” Henryk said, delighted by this show. 

Valtr took a seat at his desk. “Alright, I’ve kept you long enough. The bags under your eyes are making  _ me _ tired. Go home and get some sleep.”

“Thank you,” Henryk said, actually feeling himself wake up at the thought of going to Gascoigne’s after this. He took his coat and headed back out onto the street. He hoped enough time had passed. It felt odd showing up to the wolf’s house in the middle of the day while the sun was still out. This wasn’t quite so furtive or secret. It was almost nice to be there like this. It gave him the false impression of normalcy, like, maybe one day this was something he could be expected to do.

Maybe one day, he wouldn’t have to have a bullshit excuse at the ready in case someone asked him where he was going. In case someone else was there and he needed to justify his existence or quickly bury his intentions.

He made sure to knock loudly on the door. He could hear a shout from the other side, something like, “hold on”. 

The door swung open and a sleepy Gascoigne greeted Henryk with a yawn.

Henryk laughed. “I can come back later.”

“Nonsense,” Gascoigne said, gesturing for him to come inside. “I’m bored as anything. I need the company.”

Henryk didn’t need any more encouragement. He stepped in and shed his coat. Gascoigne draped it on the back of the armchair, per usual. Henryk watched him do it, and glanced at the coat rack by the front door. Henryk pointed at the coat rack with plenty of space, and Gascoigne gave him that same,  _ you caught me _ look, only this time, Henryk could see the embarrassment in his blue eyes. 

Gascoigne opened his mouth, clearly debating whether or not to say something. Finally, quietly, he spoke, “If I hang your coat up there… it won’t make my chair smell like you after you’ve gone.”

Henryk’s breath left him. Gascoigne walked up to him and touched his hand to Henryk’s cheek. 

“You still have my hat, don’t you?” Gascoigne asked.

Henryk blinked as the wolf ran a thumb down his face. 

“Keep it,” Gascoigne said, leaning in to press his lips to Henryk’s.

The kiss was so soft and Henryk melted, knowing he’d been caught just as red handed. Gascoigne drew him in, and Henryk wrapped his arms around the man’s neck. Finally, finally, he could touch. Henryk clung to Gascoigne, returning the kiss, no other thought than to just get as close as he could. 

Feeling Gascoigne trace the back of his head and settle his hand at the base of his neck in a gentle hold, Henryk sighed. He combed his fingers through Gascoigne’s hair. This was safe, this was good. Gascoigne started walking, slowly guiding Henryk to the couch, but refusing to break their kiss until he took a seat and pulled Henryk down beside him. Henryk gladly beckoned Gascoigne in, getting his legs around the man as they laid down. 

“You make a pretty good bodyguard,” Gascoigne said, kissing Henryk’s neck.

Henryk grinned, pressing his smile to Gascoigne’s head. “You’re a terrible client.”

Gascoigne laughed. “Yeah, what on earth made you think I was a good person to try to protect?”

“I needed a challenge,” Henryk told him. “League work was getting boring.”

Gascoigne sighed. “I’ll have your back next time. I promise.”

They relaxed side by side into a long kiss. Henryk tried not to think about how good this was, how oddly idyllic to be sharing an afternoon tied up on the couch, just holding each other, kissing lazily. He didn’t want to consider how he’d never had anything like this before, never even allowed himself to  _ want _ something so lovely. Because he had no idea how damn good it would be. 

Not that it meant anything. There was no point in building fragile emotions or getting swept up. Gascoigne did not have a future with Henryk. They barely had a  _ present _ together, all secrets and lies to get to these stolen moments. Still, Henryk had never been more content then he was right then, locked in a kiss. He wasn’t even trying to get anything more, and that was what scared him. It was easy to justify the hunger that led to their more fevered meetings. But this? He shouldn’t want this with Gascoigne. 

It was too much. 

It was dangerous. 

Wanting something delicate would only lead to disappointment. So, Henryk told himself it was just because of the party and the fear he’d held onto. This was reassurance, and nothing more. He was just glad that this person was safe. He wasn’t letting himself get carried away. Definitely not.

Gascoigne slid one hand up the back of Henryk’s shirt, scratching lightly along his skin. Henryk felt a smile spread over his face, arching into the touch. Gascoigne laughed low and kept going. 

“You’re cute like that,” Gascoigne said, voice soft. 

“Shut up,” Henryk responded, still smiling. 

Gascoigne shook his head. “Ungrateful.”

“You’re the one I saved last night,” Henryk countered. “This is the least you can do.”

“Damn, you’re right,” Gascoigne said. “Tell me what else I can do for you.”

“This is good,” Henryk said quietly.

The day slipped away, the two of them just enjoying each other’s presence. Eventually, Gascoigne gave Henryk a smile that sent warmth through him. Gascoigne started pulling at his clothes, undressing him piece by piece, touching every inch of Henryk’s body, sort of teasing him, but mostly just satisfying his own wants. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Gascoigne whispered into Henryk’s shoulder, like he was a little embarrassed to admit it, and Henryk couldn’t stop the pounding of his own heart as he pulled the wolf into a kiss. 

When someone began knocking loudly on the door, everything just sort of shattered.

“Fuck,” Gascoigne pulled away from Henryk.

“Captain,” someone called on the other side. “The Commander requests your presence.”

Henryk could smell at least three shifters. 

“Give me a second,” Gascoigne yelled. 

Henryk scrambled up off the couch, gathering his clothes as quickly as he could.

“You’ve had long enough,” came a loud, booming voice. 

Gascoigne stared at the door. “Shit…” 

Henryk was still pulling his clothes on, but Gascoigne turned to Henryk with a defeated look. The shifter shook his head. “He’ll smell me on you.”

Henryk blinked. 

Gascoigne had this lost expression on his face as there was another knock on the door. He covered his mouth. “I’m sorry. I was too careless.”

Henryk’s own desperation was turning to panic. Clearly the person on the other side of the door knew Gascoigne’s scent well enough to know when it was all over someone else and not in a platonic way. 

Henryk grabbed Gascoigne’s arm, catching his gaze. “He doesn’t know  _ my _ scent.”

“No, but—” 

“Hide my clothes,” Henryk said quickly. 

“What?” Gascoigne stared at him.

Henryk shifted before he could talk himself out of it. It was simple really. Either they both got caught with each other, or Henryk just revealed himself to Gascoigne and saved one of them. The least he could do was not ruin  _ both _ of their lives. 

Gascoigne’s gaze followed Henryk’s down to the floor as he took the form of the cat. The other man’s mouth opened as he put the pieces together. 

“You…”

There was another impatient knock at the door. “I don’t have all day, Gascoigne.”

Henryk nudged his clothes toward the shifter with a paw, hoping the man would regain his senses quickly. Gascoigne blinked, shook his head and scooped Henryk’s clothes off the ground. He hurried down the hall, tossing them into his room before returning. He grabbed Henryk into his arms and opened the door for the shifters outside. 

“Commander Ludwig,” Gascoigne said, eyes on the imposing man. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Captain,” the Commander said. His gaze went to the cat in Gascoigne’s arms and he made a small noise. “I’m not even going to ask.”

“Am I following you or—” Gascoigne started.

Ludwig gestured to the house. “Here is just fine.”

Gascoigne stepped aside and Ludwig entered the space. He turned behind him to the two shifters who had accompanied him. Henryk froze when he saw Brador, and the man raised an eyebrow when he looked directly at Henryk. 

“Nice cat,” Brador said to Gascoigne.

Gascoigne took a breath. “Not mine.”

“You two wait out here,” Ludwig said. 

Gascoigne shut the door behind Ludwig and carried Henryk to his armchair. Henryk was surprised that Gascoigne still held onto him, until he realized it was probably just so he could interrogate Henryk afterward. Because, he must have questions. Henryk certainly would in the reverse situation. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure,” Gascoigne asked, not at all sounding pleased.

“You know why I’m here,” Ludwig said, taking a seat on the couch and somehow making it look dignified. The man exuded regality, from his crisp uniform to his perfectly styled black and grey-streaked hair and his severe gaze trained on Gascoigne. 

Gascoigne held tightly onto Henryk. “Why the hell do they care so much about me getting married?”

Henryk turned back to look at Gascoigne. The man looked pained from the way he hunched over in his chair. He was staring at Henryk, though, probably debating how much to let him hear of this. 

Ludwig crossed one leg over another, gaze drifting around the room. “It’s always harder when you’ve been out there.”

Gascoigne sighed. 

“Your priorities shift and you learn to let certain things go,” Ludwig said. “And then, you come back and you’re expected to live the way you used to. As if nothing has changed. I remember when they brought you in. They didn’t know what to do with you. Nobody wanted to be your watcher because nobody wanted to deal with your attitude.”

Gascoigne looked at Ludwig and the man offered just the barest hint of a smile. “Thank God for Djura, honestly. He was the only one with the patience for your bullshit.”

A smile broke through on Gascoigne’s lips. “I think I aged him.”

“Oh, you put him on death’s door for a moment. But, still, the deal you two worked out was fair. We allowed you to fight, we gave you that freedom, and in return, you swore you would come back and find your place here.”

Gascoigne ran a hand down Henryk’s back, perhaps remembering the old comfort of it. “What if I don’t have a place here?”

Ludwig leaned forward an inch, but it was enough. “Everybody has their place. It’s only a matter of how willing you are to take it.”

Gascoigne’s gaze dropped again. “Well, fuck me, I don’t want it.”

“Ever the poet,” Ludwig mumbled before fixing his gaze back on Gascoigne. “Everybody has their flaws. You know that very well. But there comes a time when you learn how to handle them with grace. I see in you such greatness. You have the potential for so much good. You could help  _ lead _ this city.”

“What does marriage have to do with that?” Gascoigne asked.

Ludwig rested his hands on his knee. “To your credit, it  _ shouldn’t _ matter. But this is the world we live in. People want to see everyone doing their part. They need someone to look up to who is embracing their values.”

“You’re not married,” Gascoigne spoke those words like an accusation. 

Ludwig narrowed his eyes. “I’m not a wolf.”

Those words silenced Gascoigne. 

“You didn’t have to come with us,” Ludwig said. “All those years ago. But you did. You made a choice, and this is when that choice catches up to you. You must hold to your word. This is what is expected of you. Perhaps if you gave the poor girl a chance, you’d actually find something of worth to you.”

Gascoigne leaned back in his chair. 

“Tell me what it is,” Ludwig pressed. “I know you well enough to know that you always have your reasons. If you’re scared that she’ll judge you—”

“No, no,” Gascoigne shook his head. “It’s not that. I…” A smile started to break through. “Ludwig. I don’t fucking like her. Why is that so hard for you all to understand?”

“If I believed that that was the only issue, then I would accept that,” Ludwig said. “But you’ve gotten yourself backed into a corner now. You know I have the watchers’ ears and they want to know what I have to say on the matter. Tell me now, Gascoigne, will the issue be solved if we match you with another girl?”

It seemed that Gascoigne was just as bad at lying to Ludwig as Henryk was to Eileen. Gascoigne let his breath out slowly. “If I told you that this was happening too fast?”

Ludwig glanced at Henryk again before looking back up at Gascoigne. “I might be able to buy you some time, but that won’t make it go away.”

“Time sounds good right now,” Gascoigne said quietly, hands curling around Henryk’s body. “If that’s all that I can have.”

Silence threatened for a moment, and Ludwig studied Gascoigne closely, probably trying to read the deeper problem in his body language. 

“Let’s talk about something else,” Ludwig said. “I haven’t had a chance to catch up with you since you returned. Pour an old man a drink, would you?”

Gascoigne met Ludwig’s gaze, a fondness in his eyes. “Are you sure you don’t have other people to scold tonight?”

“Only the same man I’ve been scolding for years, and he also doesn’t listen to me,” Ludwig said. “Besides, I wager I still hold my liquor better than you do.”

Gascoigne’s lips began to curve up. “The years have been kind to you, sir.”

Ludwig’s shoulders sank just a touch, relaxing a little. “Laurence doesn’t make it easy.”

“You two are worse than married,” Gascoigne remarked. 

“Have mercy,” Ludwig said with a sigh. “I wouldn’t wish that man on anyone. Besides, you know he can’t have a family of his own. Why do you think he cares so much about you lot? He gives too much of the blood. Spends his life transfusion to transfusion. It gives him joy to see you all starting out your lives.”

There was something unknowable in Gascoigne’s face that pained Henryk. Talk of family, whether it was the implication of Gascoigne starting one, or the family of wolves he had with him in the Upper Ward, it was something that Henryk was distinctly separate from. Something he would never have access to. He had known from the start that he was a distraction for Gascoigne, but it felt clearer than ever just how optional he was. 

“About that drink,” Ludwig said. 

Gascoigne nodded. “Yeah, hold on.”

He stood, taking Henryk with him into the kitchen. Henryk felt an ugly knot tying up in his stomach as Gascoigne went to the porch, opened the door and set Henryk down outside.

“I assume you can get home,” Gascoigne said. 

Henryk took off as fast as he could. 

 

-

 

Henryk got home as the sun was setting, squeezing his way through the window in his house he always left open. The truth hit him like a ton of bricks. 

Why the hell would Gascoigne stay with him? It made no sense.

Henryk had lied about being a shifter, and Gascoigne was clearly expected to see this match with Viola through. If not her, some other girl. There was no way Gascoigne would come back to Henryk after a talking with the Commander like that. Gascoigne’s bond with his own people was so much stronger than his bond with Henryk.

_ Fuck fuck fuck. _

Henryk was digging his claws into the wooden floor. He stopped, focused on his breathing and paced the house. 

Would Gascoigne figure out that Valtr knew? Would Gascoigne care? How far would he take it? Maybe he wouldn’t do anything at all, just let Henryk live and never speak of it again and they could go back to being nothing but coworkers. Or… he’d come after Henryk and the League and ruin everything.

He wouldn’t, though, would he?

_ Fuck. _

Henryk couldn’t stand the usual comforting silence of his own house. His body felt stiff and awful. God, just less than an hour ago, Gascoigne had called Henryk beautiful. 

Why did he have to say that?

Henryk felt panic edging into his chest, making it harder to breathe. Worst case scenario, Gascoigne was telling Ludwig right at that moment that Henryk was a fucked up shifter working for the League and they needed to take care of that situation. Henryk thought about Valtr. That man could talk his way out of anything. He’d probably be fine, which was a comfort. There was no way Eileen would be implicated in any of this, so Henryk had no need to worry about his friend. And Gascoigne would obviously be okay if he had the Commander on his side. 

_ Deep breath. _

All of the people Henryk cared about would be alright. So all that was left was  _ him _ . Was he just going to sit here and wait for someone to come for him? Surely it was only a matter of time before this came crashing down. It would probably be Brador arresting him to boot, just there to rub salt on the wound. 

No, Henryk knew what he had to do. He would prove himself invaluable. Maybe, if he could at least fix  _ one thing _ , then he wouldn’t have to lose everything else. If he could bring results and continue to be useful, then maybe Gascoigne would see enough sense not to take everything else away from Henryk.

Henryk shifted so he could write a message to Valtr. He left the envelope stuck half under his door, Valtr’s name clearly legible on the outside, before shifting once again and heading out to Iosefka’s clinic. He’d check there first for anything. Then, he’d go to the woods to see if he could recognize Samuel’s scent anywhere. He’d give himself all night to work, and if he couldn’t find anything, then maybe he  _ was _ useless.

Thinking about the look on Gascoigne’s face as Ludwig had spoken to him brought Henryk an entirely fresh bout of pain, so Henryk shook the thought from his head. He could wallow later. For now, he would work. 

 

-

 

It was easy to avoid Gascoigne’s scouts. For one, Henryk knew they wouldn’t be looking for a cat on the ground. Secondly, Iosefka herself was in that study again, and the two scouts were so focused on her, Henryk could move freely outside the building. He decided to investigate the courtyard with the well where he had previously seen Iosefka observing the patients. The place smelled less like sickness and more like Samuel’s more specific foul scent. The back door was locked, of course. Nothing else jumped out at him, so he took to the neighboring rooftops, steering clear of the scouts, and attempted to find anything else attached to the building. Henryk got as high up as he possibly could, looking over the building for anything at all of interest. 

For an infuriating moment, it seemed like this venture had been pointless, until he saw a third story window cracked open, lamplight spilling out from it. Blessing Yharnam’s love of stone architecture, Henryk was able to find a way up to the highest point of the building. Luckily, it faced away from the study and the scouts, and in a matter of minutes, Henryk was back inside the clinic. 

He’d almost forgotten the stench of chemicals and it overwhelmed him for a moment. He allowed himself a second to adjust before carefully taking in his surroundings. 

It looked to be an operating room, judging from the tables and instruments lining the walls. Henryk was horrified at the implications there, but forced himself to keep going when he didn’t spot any signs of life. He told himself to go slowly, wade through all the impossible scents, and be cautious. No stupid mistakes this time. 

Henryk found a staircase at the end of the room, and recognized this place as where Arianna had caught him last time. Despite how toxic it felt, Henryk took a deep breath, trying to sort through it all. He caught so many bad smells, but at the very least, no  _ living _ scents. At the bottom of the stairs, there looked to be a door that he had missed last time. Considering the architecture of the building from the outside, and the basement that Iosefka had mentioned to Arianna, it seemed likely that he’d find the downstairs there. 

He went as quietly as he could down the stairs, eyeing the hallway beyond for any signs of life. Nothing met him, so he pressed onward to the other door. Shifting quickly, he opened the door and shifted back. A rush of cool air met him and another set of stairs descending into darkness. 

The air wasn’t as chemical-heavy as Henryk pressed onward. He walked down the steps to what would have put him on the first floor, at street level, and found a hall with a few doors, as well as even more steps leading further down. Here, Henryk could smell life. Elliot, the other patient, Henryk recognized immediately. There was yet another scent that he couldn’t place and a third room which did not hold anyone behind it. Henryk crept up to Elliot’s door, smelled the man on the other side and heard the faint sounds of sleep-heavy breathing. 

When Henryk approached the other unfamiliar person, the door began shaking and rattling as whoever was on the other side appeared to be throwing themselves against the wood. A scream tore through the air, raw and angry, and Henryk ran for the stairs. He thought about going back up to where he came from, but as soon as he took that first step, he heard Iosefka’s boots echoing from above. Surely she would catch him on her way there.

So, the only other option was down.

Henryk ran. The air grew even cooler. The steps seemed to go on for far too long, and he was sure they had skipped a level or two. He must be underground. Perhaps this was some old storage space from long ago. 

“Oh, that horrid voice of yours,” Iosefka’s words carried down the steps and Henryk kept scurrying. 

There was a landing and the floor changed from wooden to stone. Still, they carried Henryk further down. At this point, he was too curious not to see where they led. Besides, he still hadn’t found anything worth reporting about. He had to see this through to some valuable conclusion or else he’d have wasted his time. 

The stairs became uneven, cracked and overgrown with weeds. Henryk knew he was definitely underground, and, it seemed, in some sort of natural tunnel. Finally, Henryk found himself walking on sloped earth. There was an unlit lamp sitting on the ground and a pack of matches, clearly here for when Iosefka had need of it.

So this was how Micolash must have gotten inside and why Samuel smelled of the woods. There was a damn tunnel leading into her building. Henryk walked on, needing to know where this place wound up. Perhaps there would be some sign of Micolash himself out here. The tunnel widened as Henryk went on, and the smell of earth was a stark relief compared to the clinic. Or, it was, until Henryk picked up on something else. Something sharp and twisted. 

It smelled like poison and rot. Henryk came upon another unlit lamp in the darkness. He could see a table out here, a desk, a chair, and a set of bars stuck in the earth. 

It looked to Henryk like a cage. As he approached, he could smell old blood and sweat— shifter and non shifter alike. Many people had been out here, or  _ pieces _ of people, but Iosefka’s own scent pervaded the space. Henryk could probably slip through the bars as he was, but no human would be able to fit through. He turned, hopping up onto the desk that had been dragged into the space. Papers and vials lined the surface. Hastily scribbled notes on experiments gone by. 

Yes, this was what he needed. Records of former patients, people she’d killed down here, people no one would miss. He pawed through the sheets, debating the best way to get some of this back with him. Still, there was more tunnel to explore. It must lead to the woods. Gascoigne would be pleased to know. 

It would be best to see the exit first. Henryk took off again, quicker this time, eager to see where this place would lead him. Finally, this was something he could tell people about. The tunnel spat him out unhelpfully in the middle of the woods, no visible landmarks in the darkness. As he debated whether or not he should go back into the tunnel or press on through the woods, he heard a bark and suddenly there was a dog running full tilt toward him. 

Henryk sprinted back down into the tunnel. Of course she had a fucking dog watching the exit.

Henryk was fast, but not faster than a dog quadruple his size. It didn’t take long before teeth were snapping at his heels. The dog caught Henryk’s fur and he went sprawling into the dirt, frantic to find somewhere to hide. He slashed wildly with claws, catching the dog’s face and skin and blood. The dog snarled, backing away just enough for Henryk to flee again. Before he thought better of it, he slipped between the bars of the cage where the dog was too big to fit into. 

Safe, but only for a moment. The dog started howling. Of course, Iosefka would no doubt hear the call and come to investigate. Henryk searched the room for a better place to go, but no surface would get him higher than the dog could reach him. His best bet was probably just to—

Pain ricocheted through Henryk’s leg and he spun wildly to see a massive snake pull its fangs from his thigh. He bat his claws at the scaled creature, entirely too slow. Poison coursed through him, and Henryk swayed. The cat was too damn small for such a large amount of poison and he shifted, desperate to rid himself of it. As soon as he did, though, the snake shifted as well, on the other side of the bars.

Iosefka tilted her head and stared down at Henryk through the cage. “Interesting…”

The poison was still enough to make Henryk dizzy and nauseous. He clutched at his stomach, willing himself not to vomit.

Iosefka paced around to her chair, pulling a coat off the back of it and slipping it on. When she returned to Henryk, she removed a small tie out of her pocket and pulled her hair back from her face. 

“An original.” She spoke with reverence in her voice, eyes wide. “You’ll be fun.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> meow.exe has stopped working  
> this entire chapter is in Gascoigne's POV :)

Gascoigne sat at his desk, hand numbly massaging his temple. He’d been staring at the same map for days and he still couldn’t make sense of a route through which Micolash could have snuck his way into the city. The woods were clearly the answer, but he had no clue where to even begin.

He knew Yharnam had odd architecture and there were rumors of tunnels through the aqueducts— escape routes for the old paranoid queen. So far, all those claims had amounted to bullshit. 

It didn’t help that Gascoigne’s focus had been completely shot ever since he’d found out Henryk was a shifter. Not just a shifter… 

The fucking cat. This whole goddamn time, Henryk had been the cat. It made sense, of course. Valtr’s little spy. 

But then… why the hell had Henryk been sleeping with him? What did he have to gain? And why did he act so clueless about certain things when he was a shifter himself?

Gascoigne hadn’t been able to bring himself to go have  _ that _ conversation yet. Because part of him dreaded to hear the explanation. He wasn’t sure he could handle Henryk telling him that it had meant nothing. 

The fact that Henryk hadn’t shown up to talk was proof enough to Gascoigne that there hadn’t been anything real behind it. 

Surely, if Henryk had actually cared, he would have come and said something by now. 

Then again, Gascoigne sure had played the coward as of late. 

Gascoigne pushed his hands through his hair, leaning back. It was probably time to face up to facts. He couldn’t hide behind work forever.

Gascoigne caught a familiar scent and his brows furrowed. Speak of the devil.

The door opened, and Valtr stepped through. Gascoigne wondered if Valtr already knew about them. He hadn’t said anything yet, but Valtr was king of finding opportune moments, so it didn’t surprise Gascoigne. 

“Valtr,” Gascoigne said. “Not like you to hand deliver messages. This must be interesting.”

Valtr looked to his own boots first before meeting Gascoigne’s gaze. Even through his wraps, Gascoigne could see something was off about him. “Captain, my apologies for intruding. I was hoping you could solve a mystery for me.”

“I’ll do my best,” Gascoigne said, rising to his feet. He steeled himself, grateful that they were alone, at least. 

“It’s Henryk,” Valtr started, and Gascoigne felt his muscles clench. This was it, surely. The unwinding. 

Valtr opened his mouth, but no words came out. Gascoigne glared at the other man. 

“Out with it, League Master, I haven’t got all day,” Gascoigne snapped. 

“It’s just… nobody has seen him.”

Gascoigne’s angry glare turned to disbelief. “What?”

“He’s been missing for almost three days,” Valtr went on. 

Gascoigne felt a sharp pain in his chest. He stared at the other man, discerning the haggard aura Valtr was giving off. No, he was not himself.  


“I was hoping you’d sent him somewhere and failed to inform me,” Valtr said. “Judging by the look on your face… I’d say this was not your doing.”

Gascoigne took a sharp breath through his nose. “He’s been gone for three days?”

Valtr licked at his lips, eyes on the floor. “Just about, yes. He’s not your soldier, so I did not want to bother you with the investig—”

“Three  _ days _ ?” Gascoigne repeated, voice barely level. 

Henryk had been missing since the last time Gascoigne saw him. 

Valtr rubbed at his own chin. “When I went to Henryk’s home to see if he was there, I found a letter he’d left for me.”

“Where is it?” Gascoigne demanded. 

“I’m afraid it won’t make sense to you,” Valtr said. “Henryk and I have developed a shorthand for messages that only we can read. The translation is fairly simply, though. He had intentions of going after Iosefka and Micolash. He said he would ‘make things right’. I’m not quite sure what that part is referring to, yet.”

Gascoigne could hardly think straight. Henryk went after Iosefka by himself after their last meeting. He went back to the clinic with no backup and now it had been nearly three days since anyone had seen him. Gascoigne wanted to break something. 

“What is your plan?” Gascoigne asked, turning back to Valtr. 

Valtr looked lost. He shook his head. “Captain… what on earth can I do? He basically vanished into thin air. I certainly don’t have the ability to track him. I don’t know if anyone does. He’s not particularly close with others, and he’s certainly never mentioned a shifter to me. I’m in remiss that I waited so long to report to you as it is. I had the hope that by formally reporting his absence, I would not need to drag you into it, but I’ve had no luck on that front. By now, Henryk’s scent will already have faded to the point that an ordinary shifter would have difficulty with this.” 

Gascoigne studied Valtr closely. The man could have made this into something far more accusatory by now, but he hadn’t. It seemed, for all intents and purposes, that Valtr was actually concerned for Henryk and at his last resort. It also seemed like he was baiting Gascoigne with the obvious. 

Tracking like this was only something highly specialized shifters could pull off. Or, shifters intimately familiar with someone’s scent. Family members. Best friends. Lovers.

Gascoigne huffed. 

“Captain,” Valtr said, daring to take a step closer. “It pains me to admit that Henryk’s status as Confederate doesn’t warrant any special investigation. Besides, you and I both know that shifter cases are prioritized over non-shifters. But, perhaps you know of someone who would be willing to take their own time. Someone who wants to see Henryk safely returned as badly as I do.”

Gascoigne swallowed through a dry throat, holding Valtr’s gaze. It was impossible to tell exactly how much Valtr knew, how much Henryk may have told him or how much the man had simply put together on his own. This was an obvious devil’s deal. If Gascoigne agreed to help, there was no way he could deny knowing Henryk the way he did. If he said no, god only knew what he was dooming Henryk to. That fool. Why the hell would he have thought this was a good idea? Going off on his own without even telling Valtr. 

_ To make it right.  _

To Henryk, making it right had meant getting information on Iosefka and Micolash, people who distinctly represented shifter problems. To all the world, Henryk had no real reason to care about shifter issues. He’d been doing just fine pretending not to be one. So why the fuck would he go out of his way, risk his damn life, to help Gascoigne?

No matter how unbelievable it seemed, the answer appeared to be that Henryk thought he’d angered Gascoigne and  _ this _ was how Henryk was going to fix it. Was Gascoigne angry? Yes. Outraged, in fact. 

Someone was out there with Henryk doing god-knows-what to him and Gascoigne had been such a coward that three days had gone by without him knowing. 

Gascoigne straightened his back. “If someone comes looking for me and I’m not where I’ve said I’ll be, there’ll be hell to pay, League Master.”

“I am more than willing to provide an alibi for you,” Valtr said quickly. 

“You’re sure he went to the clinic?” Gascoigne asked, concern bleeding into his voice. 

Valtr made a face. “Well, the letter mentioned both the clinic and the forest. I have reason to believe that Henryk was searching for the way through which Micolash entered the city.”

“Fucking idiot,” Gascoigne breathed, hands clenched into fists, the wolf rearing up inside him. 

Valtr took a step back. “Time is against us, Captain.”

Gascoigne struggled for calm breaths, anger and fear filling his chest. “Is there anyone who could come with me?”

Valtr gave a quick half bow. “At your service.”

 

-

 

It was simple enough to claim a meeting with Valtr. Gascoigne went to his home first. He needed to refresh his memory before he set out— as if he hadn’t kept that pile of Henryk’s clothing in his room as a reminder. As if he hadn’t still found that scent so heavenly and hoped that Henryk would turn up again to smooth this over, or ask for his things back, or, god, anything.

Gascoigne shifted in order to fill the wolf’s nose with Henryk’s scent. His eyes slid shut. Oh, that smell, so uniquely  _ Henryk. _ Nothing else in the world was like it. In one breath, it soothed Gascoigne like a beautiful lullaby, and in another, filled him with such energy, like getting struck by lightning. 

Three days. Henryk could already be dead. None of them knew what Iosefka was after or what she was capable of.

The wolf didn’t like that. He growled low, desperate to put his jaws around something. The next breath Gascoigne drew was less steady. Something invisible had a hold around his throat. 

He couldn’t wait any longer. 

Human again, Gascoigne set out to meet Valtr. The two of them joined up outside the city limits and Gascoigne told him his plan. 

“I’ll shift and track him down. If I can’t get him back by myself, I’ll come back to lead you to him.”

“Very well,” Valtr said. He handed Gascoigne a small bag. “This is for him. Quickly, now.”

Gascoigne shifted and took the bag carefully in his teeth. The wolf took off running. Gascoigne knew the woods vaguely enough. He knew which parts were best for running without being seen, which was a start. Normally, he came to the woods to let off steam and the shift came with a sense of relief. Right now, Gascoigne didn’t know what to feel. The wolf did, though. His thoughts rang loud and clear.

_ Find him. _

Gascoigne’s human mind struggled for rationality. He tried to remind the wolf that Henryk had spent their entire time together lying. 

_ Save him. _

It hurt, hadn’t it? Then again, it seemed that the first thing Henryk had done after revealing that secret was go and try to help Gascoigne’s case. Why would he do that if he didn’t care about what Gascoigne thought of him. It didn’t even seem like Henryk had told Valtr about their relationship. Maybe there was a chance that Henryk and Gascoigne had something between them, something that they both wanted to keep. Maybe it was good enough.

Gascoigne let his mind quiet down so the wolf could take control. Even if he didn’t want to admit it, the wolf knew what he wanted. As he ran through the woods down makeshift paths, he breathed deep through the earthy scents, trying to find that familiar smell. Strong and soft at the same time, full and rich and warm and— 

_ Mine. _

There it was. Gascoigne was deep in the woods by then, but he caught just the faintest hint of that lovely scent. He put on a burst of speed, pushing himself to go as fast as he could. The smell grew stronger, but something else was present. Blood on the air and something far more sinister that he couldn’t identify. 

Gascoigne smelled the dog before he saw it, rounding a bend and coming face to face with the mangy creature. One breath confirmed both Henryk and Iosefka’s scent nearby. The dog looked like it wanted to fight, snapping its jaws, but the wolf wasn’t having it. It was just another damn shifter with no grip on humanity and Henryk’s blood on its fur. A lost cause.

He made short work of it. 

The tunnel that the dog had been guarding sloped down deep into the earth. Gascoigne slowed his steps, though it was hard as Henryk’s scent grew stronger. Iosefka was just a whisper through the air, but, oh, there he was.

Henryk lay on his back on the ground through the bars of a cage,. His eyes were closed, but his chest rose and fell and Gascoigne could hear his breathing. The wolf began to whine and Gascoigne dropped the bag in his teeth and tried to stick his nose between the bars, to no avail. More whining, and little huffs. 

_ Wake up! _

The man’s eyes struggled to open for a moment before he turned his head to look at the wolf on the other side of the bars.

Henryk’s lips parted. With immense effort, he reached a hand to the edge of the cage, fingers grazing Gascoigne’s fur.  

“It’s you.”

His voice was much too quiet, but it was a relief just to hear him speak. Gascoigne huffed again, gesturing his head toward the exit, hoping to convey the obvious. 

Henryk’s eyes shut again, like it was just too much to keep them open. “I c… can’t shift. She did something to me…”

Gascoigne shifted, crouching beside the cage and reaching a hand through the bars to touch Henryk’s arm. “Keys?”

Henryk shook his head, finger weakly trying to return the touch. “She’s got ‘em with her.”

“Is she a threat?”

“Yes,” Henryk said, forcing his gaze back onto Gascoigne’s, hand wrapped around Gascoigne’s wrist. “Don’t fight her. Please. She’ll poison you too.”

“What did she do to your shift?” Gascoigne asked.

Henryk stared at him, his brown eyes strained and watery. “It feels… far away. Buried. She’s been poisoning me for … how long have I been here?”

Gascoigne shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Getting you out is what matters. There must be something I can do.”

Henryk took a labored breath. “Can you shift again?”

Although he didn’t want to, Gascoigne let go of Henryk’s arm and shifted, pressing his snout close to the bars. Henryk rolled onto his side, dragging himself a little closer so he could reach through and bury his hand into the fur on Gascoigne’s neck.

“Feels better for some reason,” Henryk managed. “Your shift… makes mine feel a little closer.”

The wolf whined quietly. Henryk shut his eyes. “She’s a snake… Iosefka. Be careful.”

Feeling Henryk’s hand on him was such painful relief. Gascoigne turned his head into Henryk’s palm, getting low to the ground to make it easier for Henryk to reach him. Henryk took a deep breath, body going tense. Gascoigne scanned the room again just to be sure they were alone, breathing hard to catch anything, but it appeared to be just them for now.

“Come on,” Henryk breathed, hand gripping Gascoigne’s fur. “Please.”

He was trying to shift. Gascoigne could feel it in the air, that sharp pull and just the slightest change in scent. Henryk groaned with the effort, clearly fighting off whatever Iosefka had done to him. But, Gascoigne recognized the pull of the shifter beside him. Henryk bent his legs up close to his chest, teeth grit, breathing hard. 

Finally, Henryk gasped and his body rippled with the shift, shrinking down into the black cat. The creature immediately swayed, leaning against the bars, barely able to stand. Gascoigne ached just watching Henryk attempt to get himself free, not being able to help. The cat managed to push between the bars and collapse onto the ground. With a soft mewl, the cat shifted back to human form and Henryk fell into a coughing fit that ended with him vomiting on the grass and laying back down heavily.

Gascoigne shifted, grabbing the bag that Valtr had sent him in with. “A gift from your boss.”

Henryk gave a pathetic laugh, touching the bag. “Did he get my note?”

“Yeah,” Gascoigne said, offering a hand to help Henryk sit up. “That’s why I’m here.”

Henryk took his hand and Gascoigne did most of the work to get him up. Henryk opened the bag and removed some clothes, very slowly pulling on a pair of plain black pants. Gascoigne stopped Henryk, though, when he saw little marks across his legs.

“What did she do to you?” Gascoigne asked, gently touching Henryk’s skin.

Henryk just pushed his hand away and finished dressing. “I’m fine. Let’s just get out of here.”

“Henryk,” Gascoigne said, looking into the man’s eyes. 

Henryk met his gaze, pain and discomfort clear through him. Everything that Gascoigne had imagined saying just vanished from his mind. He didn’t know what to say anymore, didn’t know how to handle this situation. He was so glad Henryk was okay, but he was also still so confused, and on top of that, he wanted nothing more than to find Iosefka and tear her throat out for doing whatever she had done.

“Let’s get going,” Gascoigne said, the only thing that made sense. 

Henryk nodded. “You gonna shift again?”

“Yeah,” Gascoigne said. “I’ll help you walk out of here.”

“Thank you,” Henryk said, though his voice was just a whisper.

Once Henryk was clothed, Gascoigne shifted and Henryk braced himself against the wolf for support. Luckily, the wolf was tall enough that Henryk could easily use him as a crutch. It took them a long time to walk back, and they were silent, save for Henryk’s occasional coughing fit, spitting up more fluid each time. It worried Gascoigne, but he didn’t say anything. He grew angrier with every labored step they took, thoughts forming in his head, things he needed to say. 

After what felt like hours, they made it back to Valtr at the edge of the woods. 

“Oh, thank God,” Valtr said when he saw them. “I was beginning to worry.”

Valtr helped Henryk limp over to a tree so he could sit against it, taking deep breaths. Valtr offered Henryk water, which he gratefully took sips of for a moment.

Gascoigne shifted again and found his clothes, dressing quickly. He took a moment, a deep breath, before walking back over to Henryk. He knelt in front of the smaller man, staring hard into his eyes. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” Gascoigne asked.

Henryk covered his eyes with his hands. “I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied. It was stupid—”

Gascoigne gabbed Henryk by the shoulders, startling him. “I’m not talking about the cat.”

Henryk stared at him.

“You almost got yourself killed, you idiot. Why would you go back there by yourself?”

Henryk’s mouth opened, a sigh escaping him. “I thought… fuck, I don’t know what I thought! I wasn’t thinking straight. I just… thought I’d ruined everything.” Henryk’s gaze dropped, shame sloping his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to help you.” 

His quiet voice and his obvious guilt struck through Gascoigne’s chest. Henryk didn’t want it to be over, either. He’d risked his life to try to fix it. 

Gascoigne could only process one thought between him and the wolf howling truth. He lifted his hands to Henryk’s face and closed the distance between them in a fierce kiss. He didn’t care about Valtr. All he cared about was the the soft noise Henryk made and the feel of his fingers tracing up the sides of Gascoigne’s face, touching his hair, holding him. The wolf relaxed within him, knowing that Henryk was safe and back with them. 

_ Ours. _

It was all that mattered.

When Gascoigne pulled away, he brushed his hand over Henryk’s hair. “I told you I’d have your back. Sorry it took me so long.”

Henryk nodded, looking a little starstruck.

“Will the shift help you heal?” Gascoigne asked.

“I think so,” Henryk said. “If I can get back to it.”

“You can stay with me while you recover.”

Henryk looked overwhelmed for a moment, breath coming in short bursts, but he nodded again. He glanced over at Valtr who had his gaze respectfully locked onto a tree a few feet away.

“Sir,” Henryk said. “I, uh…” 

“Sir?” Valtr looked down at him. “Haven’t heard that title from you in a minute. Never mind all that. We’ll resume our work once you’ve recovered. Consider yourself on medical leave. But, do me a favor, Henryk?”

Henryk looked on the edge of a smile as he waited. 

“Try to go at least two weeks between injuries. We’ll get nothing done at this rate.”

Henryk raised his hand in a weak salute. “Got it.”

“Captain, I entrust my Confederate’s care to you. I presume you’ll see to his full recovery.”

“Yeah, I got it,” Gascoigne said, tracing his thumb down Henryk’s cheek. “If I can keep him in the fucking house.”

Henryk started to laugh. He leaned into Gascoigne’s touch, eyes sliding shut. “I’ll behave. For now.”

“Gentlemen,” Valtr said. “I’ll see you both at a later date.”

He strode off toward the city again, and Gascoigne held Henryk’s face. “You should shift. Heal up faster, you know?”

Henryk met his gaze, his exhaustion weighing him down. “I’m sorry. I’m really,  _ really _ sorry. I’m an idiot.”

Gascoigne nodded with a smile. “I know. Come on. Let me get you home.”

“Come closer,” Henryk said. “I need to feel the wolf again.”

Gascoigne drew Henryk into a hug, taking a deep breath himself. Henryk’s scent was marred by whatever that poison was, but at the very least he was safe. With some concentration, Henryk managed to shift again and Gascoigne scooped the cat into his arms, quickly making his way back home. It was still the dead of night, so nobody saw the man and the cat walking home. 

When Gascoigne made it back to his house, he put Henryk on his bed and promised to be back quickly. He showered, eager to be rid of the scent of Iosefka’s horrid prison, and the dog that he’d fought. But his own exhaustion was catching up to him and he practically collapsed into bed afterwards. Henryk sat a foot away, staring at him with barely open eyes. Gascoigne reached a hand to him, touching his leg, the soft fur.

“I’m not mad,” Gascoigne said. “Am I right to say that the only reason you didn’t tell me was because you didn’t know how?”

Henryk padded closer, nuzzled his face to Gascoigne’s arm. 

“It’s okay,” Gascoigne said. “I promise. I can’t judge you for that. There’s something I haven’t told you either.” 

The cat turned to look at Gascoigne. 

Gascoigne took a breath, that old familiar pain tightening in his chest. “You know I’m not from Yharnam. I never wanted to come here, never wanted to be some fucking royal wolf. But… thing is, I found out pretty young what I was. I’ve always had trouble controlling the wolf. We don’t always get along even when there isn’t any moonlight. And my father wasn’t the greatest man. He did his best to bring me up by himself after my mom passed, but, the wolf didn’t make it easy, and his drinking didn’t help either. 

“When he found out what I was, he didn’t like it. Tried to keep me in line by being more terrifying than the wolf. He took his anger out on me, until I was old enough to fight back. So I did. Nearly tore him apart. I was too mean, too angry. I went too far. I’d heard about Yharnam before, a city full of shifters, so I just went there. I didn’t know what else to do. They know, Laurence and Ludwig. I told them about the whole thing. Ludwig sent someone to check on him, my dad. He lived through it, but I can still taste his blood sometimes.”

Gascoigne fell silent, but he felt the cat stepping closer. Henryk settled beside his head and very gently bit at Gascoigne’s ear. Gascoigne turned so he could pet Henryk. He liked watching the cat relax into his touch, eyes sliding shut, breathing going steady. 

This was familiar, and yet different. It was Henryk. Gascoigne pulled the cat closer, pressing his face to Henryk’s fur. 

“I’ve never really told anyone about that,” he admitted.

He felt a paw soft on his chin and a small tongue. 

“You can tell me your story when you’re ready,” Gascoigne said. “I’ll wait.”

 

-

 

Gascoigne got used to having the cat in his house over the next couple of days. Knowing it was Henryk just made it easier. What he hated was not being able to tell exactly what was wrong. Henryk was clearly still working through the poison, that much he could smell. Sometimes he came home and found the cat shivering under the covers of his bed, and sometimes, he’d find the cat sprawled out on the cooler kitchen floor, hot to the touch. 

“The fuck did she do to you?” Gascoigne asked, laying out a cold damp cloth for Henryk to rest on. 

Henryk always came closer to Gascoigne, though. As if the healing was easier with Gascoigne nearby. Gascoigne didn’t complain, grateful that he could watch over Henryk. He remembered when he himself had to shift away his injuries and the cat had come to watch over him.  _ Henryk _ .  

That second day, Gascoigne led a bunch of his scouts through the woods to the tunnel that led to Iosefka’s. Said he caught the scent on a run. Nobody asked further questions. 

They found her two patients, Arianna and Elliot, stabbed through the heart in their rooms. Iosefka had already fled with much of her research material. They promptly shut the clinic down. Gascoigne had been frustrated that he couldn’t stop Iosefka himself, but if the question had been Henryk or Iosefka, Gascoigne knew he’d make the same choice every time.

The third day was mostly answering questions and searching through the clinic for any leads. It was obvious Iosefka had left in a rush, abandoning anything she didn’t need. It interested Gascoigne that there wasn’t any trace that Henryk had ever been there. Clearly something about him was important enough to her that she felt the need to take it with her. Arianna and Elliot, on the other hand, weren’t so lucky. They found some horrifying texts in her library to do with human dissection, a vast collection of poisons and many other incriminating things, but no indication of where she might have gone to. Gascoigne found himself paging through a book at one point with illustrations on various surgical techniques. The longer he looked at the images, his brain began to substitute Henryk’s face onto the drawings and he found himself closing the book and walking away. He reminded himself that Henryk was safe and not cut up on some table. 

When Gascoigne came home on the fourth day of cataloguing evidence, Henryk was sitting in his bed, human, nose in a book. He’d put on one of Gascoigne’s shirts and a pair of his shorts. Gascoigne went to him, took the book from his hand and pulled them together, burying his face in Henryk’s neck. Alive. Henryk was alive. That relief was nearly painful and Gascoigne lifted his face, but before he could kiss Henryk, the man put his hand on Gascoigne’s lips. 

“Let me talk,” Henryk said. “It’s a long story.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's not like they like each other...they're just bro friends who sleep together and would die for each other... sh-shut up


	14. Chapter 14

Henryk told Gascoigne everything. Getting into a fight as a kid and finding out his shift. His relationship with Brador and how the reality of what he was had twisted their friendship. He talked about being raised with mostly non-shifters and working hard to figure out how to fight for himself. 

He told Gascoigne about when he tried to join the Confederates and wound up meeting Eileen during his background check.

“She thought I was a really bad spy,” Henryk told him. “But it turned out, I was just fucking clueless about shifter things. I begged her not to tell anyone. She’s where I get my aconite. She went all mother hen on me when she realized I’d made it to my teens without really getting taught anything about shifters.”

“And Valtr?” Gascoigne asked.

“Yeah, he caught me with some aconite a few years back and decided that we could make an arrangement to both our benefits.”

Gascoigne narrowed his eyes. “He’s not gonna fuck us over, right?”

Henryk shook his head. “I think he has a soft spot for me.”

“Soft enough that I should be concerned?” Gascoigne asked. He was seated in bed beside Henryk, hands idly resting on Henryk’s legs.

Henryk looked up at him, brows furrowed. 

Gascoigne touched Henryk’s face, clarifying. “Does he have a thing for you?”

“Oh, no, no,” Henryk smiled. “Nah, I think that’s just you.”

“Good,” Gascoigne said. “That’s the last thing I need. But what about Brador? He saw you here with me in shift.”

“And he hasn’t said anything, right?” Henryk asked.

Gascoigne shook his head. 

“I can’t be sure, but I’m not too concerned about him. I don’t know what Brador’s plans are, but he’s already had plenty of time to ruin things and he hasn’t. It’s a good sign.”

Gascoigne slipped his hand around Henryk’s shoulder. “So it sounds like we’re okay for now.”

Henryk dropped his gaze. “Are we?”

Gascoigne pulled Henryk against him. “You wouldn’t be here if we weren't.”

Henryk slid his arms around Gascoigne, pressing his face in to the other man’s chest. 

“There’s just one more thing,” Gascoigne said quietly.

“Hm?” Henryk asked.

Gascoigne ran his hand down Henryk’s back. “What happened when you went out there?”

Henryk sighed.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it yet,” Gascoigne offered.

Henryk pulled away. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I’m just… having trouble figuring it out myself.”

Henryk began to tell Gascoigne. “The way you described my scent was the first sign, I guess. Something neither shifter, nor human. I can… do things other shifters can’t. And my size? I can’t be like you.”

Gascoigne listened to Henryk describe the way he could shift his senses. The man waited patiently. 

“Iosefka called me an 'original',” Henryk said. “She didn’t say much to me after that, mostly taking notes. She just kept injecting me with chemicals and taking samples of my skin and blood. I got the feeling that she couldn’t actually do much with me there, because she couldn’t let me shift and risk me escaping so she did what little she could while I was human. It seemed like she was trying to induce changes to my shift, but she had to keep it from manifesting at the same time. I couldn’t access my shift at all until you showed up. It’s weird, though, because her shift had no effect on me, but the second you got there, I felt better.”

Gascoigne had this warm look on his face while he touched Henryk’s cheek. “So… what _ do _ you know about shifters?”

Henryk shrugged. “Honestly, not much. Eileen only really explains things as they come up.”

“Right,” Gascoigne said. He took a deep breath before pulling Henryk back against him. “Hey…”

Henryk returned the hug. “Yeah?”

Gascoigne’s grip tightened a little. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Henryk inched closer, and Gascoigne swept Henryk up into his lap. Gascoigne put a hand under Henryk’s shirt, tracing his spine and shoulder blades. Henryk breathed easy at the soft touch, grateful to be back here. 

“Can I ask you something?” Henryk began.

“Yeah,” Gascoigne said. He kept up his movement, feeling Henryk’s back and chest under the fabric of his shirt.

“Are you technically engaged?” Henryk asked.

Gascoigne’s hand paused for only a second before he resumed. “Technically, no. Ludwig bought me some time.”

Henryk couldn’t bring himself to ask  _ how much time _ . Instead, he said, “I hope you know I was never really spying on you. All those times I came here, I just… I did it because I wanted to. I lied to myself about getting intel but that wasn’t the real reason.”

Gascoigne kissed Henryk’s neck. 

“I liked being here,” Henryk went on. “And…”

Gascoigne opened his mouth and gently bit Henryk. 

“I wanted to tell you so badly,” Henryk said, voice going soft. “How good your scent is to me.”

Gascoigne bit him a little harder, but it wasn’t painful. Henryk turned his face to show Gascoigne more of his skin, silently giving him permission to keep going. Gascoigne punctuated each bite with a kiss, working his way up Henryk’s neck. Henryk couldn’t express how lovely it felt, so he just closed his eyes. 

When Gascoigne kissed Henryk on the lips, it was almost too much. Henryk gripped Gascoigne’s shirt with both hands.

Gascoigne just gave this soft breath and spoke, “can I keep you another night?”

Henryk nodded. “I’m yours.”

 

-

 

Henryk woke up in Gascoigne’s bed, an arm draped over his stomach. A deep breath confirmed the shifter dead asleep beside him. Henryk heard a noise from the living room: knocking at the door. 

“Gasc,” Henryk said, shaking the man. 

Gascoigne made a noise, pulling Henryk to him. “Mm? Still hungry?”

Henryk smiled. “Someone’s at your door.”

“Damnit,” Gascoigne mumbled. “Can you shift?”

Henryk did, and Gascoigne got himself out of bed. He put the cat on his shoulder and peered through the window. It was Henriett. Gascoigne cracked the door a little to speak with her. 

“What’s going on?” 

“Boss,” she said, offering a salute. “There’s been an incident.”

Gascoigne raised an eyebrow. 

“It’s Samuel, sir. He murdered a fellow prisoner last night. Doesn’t seem to be any reason why, and of course, he’s not answering any questions on the matter. Won’t even admit he had anything to do with it, despite the victim’s blood all over his hands. And…”

“Yes?” Gascoigne prompted her.

“He was… eating… part of the victim,” she forced herself to say, eyes going distant. “I haven’t seen anything like that since the frontier.” 

“Damn,” Gascoigne said, rubbing at his jaw. “I’ll be in soon.”

“Sir?” Henriett said quickly. 

“Yeah?”

She adjusted her coat. “Is the Confederate doing alright?”

Gascoigne nodded. “Yeah. But he might be out of commission for a while. You need him for something?”

She shook her head. “No. I just know you two are friends. And I enjoyed working with him. Want to make sure he’s alright.”

“You got a crush on him?” Gascoigne asked, smiling.

She rolled her eyes and turned away. “Goodbye, Boss.”

“See ya,” he called after her, grinning.

Gascoigne carried Henryk back to his room, and Henryk leapt onto the bed. He shifted, stretching out over the covers. 

“I think she might have a thing for you,” Gascoigne said, crawling over Henryk.

Henryk shook his head. “Nah, you’re just a jealous fool.”

“Am not,” Gascoigne said, placing his hands on either side of Henryk’s head. 

“Really? It wouldn’t bother you if someone started flirting with me?” 

“That doesn’t mean I’m jealous,” Gascoigne said. 

“I think maybe you don’t know what the word ‘jealous’ means,” Henryk said, touching Gascoigne’s chin. He scratched across the stubble, drawing him in. “And it kinda sounds like you have somewhere to be.”

Gascoigne leaned in. “I can take my time. Hell, I can take a vacation if I want.”

He kissed Henryk, allowing the fantasy to play out where they both ran away for a little while. When Gascoigne pulled back, Henryk patted his cheek. “Alright, Captain. You let me know.”

They got out of bed, Gascoigne putting his uniform on, and Henryk throwing one of the man’s gigantic shirts back over his head. 

“When will I see you again?” Gascoigne asked, catching Henryk’s wrist. 

Henryk shrugged. “When  _ could _ you see me again?”

Gascoigne took Henryk’s waist, kissing his forehead. “Well… so long as you can shift… it’s not like anyone’s going to be able to catch you here.”

Henryk realized the benefit of this situation. “So… when do you  _ want _ to see me again?”

“Whenever I can,” Gascoigne said with a smile. “How about I leave the porch door open, and you can come here whenever you want?”

For a moment, Henryk considered telling Gascoigne that he’d be happy just to stay here, but that felt like too much, so he said, “alright.”

“I mean it,” Gascoigne said, tugging on Henryk’s waist to pull them together. “Anytime.”

Henryk nodded, not sure how much he believed that, but it was a nice thought. Surely the man would get sick of him. It would be imposing to show up all the time. Henryk would get on his nerves. Things would become complicated.

Gascoigne kissed Henryk once more. “I should go. Just leave the door open for yourself if you decide to go to work.”

“Okay,” Henryk said. “I’ll see you.”

Henryk still carried a vague heaviness in his limbs from the poison which made it all too tempting to just go back to sleep for a while. When he woke back up, it was late morning and he figured he should make an appearance at the League, just so Valtr knew he was alright. 

His boss offered a smile. “Ah, Henryk. I trust your nurse knows you’re here.”

“Yeah,” Henryk said. “He knows.”

“I was hoping to have you go and take a look at the clinic, see if you can’t find anything worth our time?”

Henryk nodded. “Yeah, I can do that. Still hoping for clues that’ll lead to Micolash?”

“Yes, though I don’t have high hopes at the moment,” Valtr admitted. “It seems Iosefka had a contingency plan for such a quick retreat.”

“I assume nobody’s been able to track her down?” Henryk asked.

Valtr shook his head. “Nobody is familiar enough with her scent.”

“What about her employee? The half-breed?” Henryk asked.

“She went missing as well,” Valtr said. “Either Iosefka took her back to wherever she came from, or the poor thing met a similar fate to Arianna.”

Henryk sighed. “Covering all her bases.”

“Let’s get you over there, see if you can’t pick anything up,” Valtr said. “Take one of the twins with you.”

Henryk raised an eyebrow. “An escort?”

Valtr leveled a glare at Henryk. “Someone needs to make sure you don’t go missing again.”

Henryk sighed. “How about I grab one of Gascoigne’s guys?” 

“Whoever, as long as you’re not alone,” Valtr said. “I can’t trust that that place isn’t still some kind of trap.”

“I’ll report back soon,” Henryk assured him.

 

-

 

When Henryk arrived at the Cathedral Ward to request assistance, he wasn’t surprised to hear that Gascoigne was busy over at the prison. Henriett, however, offered herself as back-up.

“I know he’d be happy to have us working together,” Henriett said, holding the door open for Henryk. “Your injuries really rattled him.”

Henryk remained neutral as best he could as he stepped back outside. “I did a stupid thing.”

“We all do stupid things sometimes,” Henriett said, shutting the door to Gascoigne’s office. “When we think we’re close to something. May I ask what happened?”

Henryk glanced at her. “What did he tell you?”

Henriett put her hands in her pockets and set off toward the clinic. “A couple days ago, the Captain gave you permission to investigate on your own. And then you got hurt on the job. Didn’t really go into much detail beyond that. But I know he blames himself.”

Henryk wanted to roll his eyes. “Of course he does. Never mind that it was my choice to go snooping around.”

Henriett began to laugh. “If he can, Gascoigne will  _ always _ take the blame for things. It’s something I’ve learned about him. If he trusts you, he’ll do anything he can to help you.”

Trust. What a strange word. Henryk knew by then that he  _ did _ trust Gascoigne, even if it scared him. After all, while he’d been trapped, half-conscious in Iosefka’s prison, wasn’t it Gascoigne that he’d imagined coming after him? It still didn’t seem quite real, the wolf appearing in that earthy cage. Henryk had felt something come over him, knowing that the shifter had tracked him down.

“The short version is that I got caught inside Iosefka’s clinic,” Henryk admitted to Henriett. 

Her eyes flashed with concern. “That’s not good.”

“I’m alright now,” Henryk said. “Gascoigne got me out when he realized something bad had happened.”

She nodded, though her gaze retained some skepticism. “I’m glad he was able to help you. I don’t like to think about what he’d do if something truly bad happened to you. Honestly, I know the boss isn’t too happy in Yharnam.”

Henryk watched her carefully. 

“I’m sure you know, too, being his friend,” she went on, eyes dutifully on the street ahead of them. “He works very hard. It’s a habit I think we both learned while fighting, that inability to turn off our brains. That being said, I think he’s been resistant to any kind of settling so it’s nice to know that he has a friend in you. His interest in this city is tenuous at best. I want to keep working for him, so I want him to have good things. You’re one of those thing.” 

Henryk made a considerate noise. “You sound like you care a lot.”

She almost laughed. “Believe it not, I think Gascoigne can do some good in this fucked up city. The more allies he has, the better.”

Henryk smiled. “Yeah, I think he can too, but I don’t know if he wants to. The wolves have plans for him, you know? He’s like royalty to them.” 

She nodded, but there was a glint in her eye. “Yes, I’ve picked up on some of that. I think maybe the wolves are in for a bit of a rude awakening.” She turned to Henryk, eyes bright. “We all have quite a bit in common, I think.”

Henryk narrowed his eyes. “Is this when I ask you if you’re single and you respond with some non-committal answer about how I’m not your type?”

She chuckled. “Gascoigne didn’t just take pity on my homesickness. He knows a helpless fool when he sees one.”

Henryk started grinning, remembering Gascoigne’s quip from the previous night about her having a crush. “He is such an asshole.”

“He certainly has an interesting sense of humor,” Henriett said. “But, he’s a good shifter. I like him, as much as I  _ can _ like a man.”

Henryk put his hands in his pockets, a feeling of freedom rising up through him. “You’re a good shifter as well.”

They walked up the steps to the clinic together, Henriett getting the door for Henryk. He was struck by the smell of chemicals all over again and it almost turned his stomach. He paused, gritting his teeth and Henriett patted him on the back.

“You alright?”

He nodded. “Such an awful smell to this place.”

“Take your time. I can’t imagine it’s easy to come back here.”

He hadn’t really thought about it, what fear could do to him. With a sharp breath in, he pulled himself back together and they kept on.  

“Was there anything odd about the bodies of her patients?” Henryk asked.

Henriett shook her head. “Other than the bizarre nature of their shifts, no. They were killed so clinically. Precise.”

Henryk nodded. “She’s skilled with a knife…”

There were still some city-employed shifters in the clinic, trying to sort through everything and make sense of it. Henryk immediately went to Iosefka’s study. This room had been picked over already but Henryk could see the gaps in the bookshelf where Iosefka had no doubt taken some of her personal records. Henriett mostly seemed like she was keeping an eye on Henryk as he moved through the room, scanning the spines along the wall. 

“She’s a snake,” Henryk told her. “Iosefka.”

Henriett frowned. “That’s hard to track. Snakes don’t have as strong a scent to them.”

“Convenient,” Henryk muttered as he started going through the drawers of her desk. 

Nothing useful had been left behind. This was probably her first step in covering her tracks. She would have taken the most care with her research materials. Henryk left the room and headed up to the third floor. Bracing himself, he took a deep breath in through his nose. 

As best he could, he tried to sort through the scents gone by. He picked through discarded medical instruments, things someone had cast aside in a hurry. There were texts on every kind of medicine imaginable. “You know, I spoke to someone who knew Iosefka in her younger years. Said Iosefka’s scent had changed drastically during her absence at school. She assumed Iosefka was pregnant, but I don’t think so…”

Henriett shook her head. “I didn’t smell that on her.”

“No one has,” Henryk said, tapping his finger on a textbook covering midwife practices. “Does your office get access to records on all the shifters tested in Yharnam?”

Henriett tilted her head. “I think I can find that information, yes.”

“I’m curious what the official record says her shift is,” Henryk said. “I’m starting to think it’s not what I saw.” 

“You think the person running this clinic is impersonating the real Iosefka?”

Henryk shrugged. “It’s a possibility. If she looked vaguely similar. Or… if someone  _ made _ her look similar. We have no idea what Micolash and these people are capable of.”

Henriett nodded. “I can look into it.”

“I don’t think we’ll find much here just by walking around,” he admitted. “Let’s chase something more solid.” 

 

-

 

The archives were kept in offices built underneath the old Grand Cathedral. They took a carriage across town, bouncing ideas back and forth. Henriett had to prove she worked for Captain Gascoigne before they let her enter, and they barred Henryk from going inside. 

“Non-shifters aren’t allowed into shifter records,” they said, giving him looks.

Henriett looked ready to argue, but Henryk just waved her in. “It’s alright. You know what we need.”

She promised to be quick and followed an annoyed looking woman through the office. Henryk took a seat on a bench outside. He had been glad to leave the smell of the clinic behind and the fresh air helped clear his head. He didn’t like to think that what happened would haunt him. He didn’t want to be afraid of something that was over and done with. 

Still… to be cut off from his shift  _ had  _ been frightening. A stark emptiness inside of him that he couldn’t fix. Even if he felt confused about his shift, sometimes resented it, it was a part of him that he had come to rely on. The thought that someone could take that away from him was alarming.

Henryk wasn’t sure how much time had passed before Henriett came back outside. He jumped to his feet. 

“So?”

She nodded. “You were right. The records say the real Iosefka is a horse, not a snake.”

Henryk took a breath. “Alright. That’s the first step.”

Henriett crossed her arms. “So what the hell is step two?”

Henryk sighed. “I want to talk to my source again. Maybe you can update Gascoigne and go sniffing around the clinic in shift for anything at all worth following. Who knows, there could be traces of the real Iosefka there.”

“I’ll get to work,” Henriett said. “We can meet up tomorrow at the office and the three of us can regroup?”

Henryk nodded. “Good luck.”

“You too,” she said.

 

-

 

It was easy enough to arrange an evening chat with Eileen in their usual spot. She hugged him fiercely when she saw him. They hadn’t seen each other since the party.

“There you are,” she said, squeezing him. “It feels like it’s been years.”

Henryk returned the hug, underestimating how nice it would be to see his friend. She smelled so familiar. “Listen. Things are getting complicated.”

“I know,” she said, pulling back and holding him by the shoulders. “Targeting a wolf was big news. Even if it wasn’t a direct attack on Laurence himself, going after the Captain is enough of a message. I’ve been working non-stop since everything happened to get any useful intel on who was responsible.”

“Does Gascoigne know you’re on this too?” Henryk asked.

Eileen made an uncertain gesture with her hands. “I don’t know if, strictly speaking, I  _ am _ on this. Maria is still technically going about her usual business. She’s just asked me to do some digging. You know, if I see something, chase it, but I’m not to report on it to anyone except her. She’s been curious about you, actually.”

Henryk pulled a face. “I hope I wasn’t too obvious.”

Eileen smiled. “I think you’re safe for now. That being said, she got curious about why a Confederate is so caught up in shifter affairs. One thing led to another and I think I’ve made some sense of things. Are you familiar with the name Micolash?”

Henryk nodded. “Oh yes, he’s been causing me a great deal of trouble lately.”

“Oh, have you been doing a bit of your own spying?” Eileen’s eyes lit up. “I told you you’d be good at my job.”

Henryk pointed at her. “We’re not discussing this. Keep talking.”

She chuckled. “Alright, alright. Well, you probably know about the scandal that happened several years ago with Micolash and the half-breed he killed.”

Henryk nodded. “I was told he got caught cutting one open.”

“Yes, but did you know that he attended the medical college Byrgenwerth before all that?” she asked.

Henryk shook his head. 

“It’s the same college Laurence went to,” Eileen told him. “And, the same college Iosefka attended as well. Weirdly, though, I can’t seem to find any records of her graduating. Micolash was top of his class, of course.”

“About that,” Henryk said and filled her in on the story with Iosefka.

Eileen looked toward the moon. “Is it wrong that I’m glad to know the healer I once knew isn’t responsible?”

“Of course not,” Henryk said. “I just hope that the original Iosefka didn’t suffer much. I can’t imagine the imposter wouldn’t have killed her to prevent any loose ends.”

Eileen rubbed her temples. “Not a day goes by that I don’t question my sanity for getting into this line of work.”

Henryk leaned on the railing. “Now  _ that _ I understand.”

She came up beside him, linking their arms together. “Listen. I never got to my point. It’s about the Captain.”

Henryk turned to her. 

“I think he’s getting targeted specifically because of his stance on non-shifters. You may have accidentally become someone’s soapbox.”

Henryk lifted an eyebrow. “Oh no.”

“I doubt he talks much to you about it, knowing how little you like to be the center of attention, but our new Captain has basically been taking every opportunity to push non-shifter integration. He thinks shifters and non-shifters can work better together and, whether he intended it or not, people have come to know him for it.”

“Huh,” Henryk felt a little dumbstruck as he considered this. 

“I don’t even think Gascoigne is aware of how loud he’s being about it,” Eileen said. “But he’s definitely setting a tone and some people don’t like it. People like Micolash who think shifters are higher life forms. Even before the whole half-breed incident, Micolash had been getting some push back from the higher-ups about his line of thinking.”

Eileen tapped the back of Henryk’s hand. “I didn’t realize at first just how big a deal Gascoigne is. He’s no figure-head. I think that’s why Maria has me quietly looking into this. Not even the higher-ups know I’m doing this digging on their little prince.”

“What do you mean?” Henryk asked. 

“Do you know the big difference between Gascoigne and Micolash?” she asked. “Micolash was born in Yharnam, and raised in the Upper Ward since he was a child. But Gascoigne didn’t show up until he was about fifteen, I think. And while Laurence tried to make a scholar out of Micolash, Ludwig himself took Gascoigne on as a student. That doesn’t really happen, you see. Not long after, Laurence and Micolash started butting heads, and Laurence spent more and more time with Gascoigne. I think he’s the favorite son, so to speak. He’s the closest thing Yharnam has to a real prince.”

Henryk had the odd urge to laugh.

“You’ve made yourself a powerful friend,” Eileen said.

“Lucky me,” Henryk said, smiling at her. “Do you think I can use that to get myself a vacation?”

She lightly slapped his arm. “We’re talking about serious things right now.”

“Yeah, and I could  _ seriously _ use a vacation.” He grinned. 

Eileen fought off her own smile. “I swear, you are a new person these days. I should thank that man of yours. I’ve never seen you smile so much.”

Henryk rolled his eyes. “I’ll pass your message along. So what you’re saying is that Micolash is a petty bastard and taking out his anger on everyone here?”

“Yeah, that’s about what I’ve figured,” she said. “Micolash is trying to pull strings from outside the city. Get Gascoigne ousted or killed.”

Henryk rolled his shoulders. “Sounds like there’s a fight brewing.”

“If it were down to a test of shift between Micolash and Gascoigne, I wouldn’t worry too much, but if there’s one thing we know by now, it’s that Micolash fights a little dirty,” Eileen said. “Keep your eye out for Gascoigne. You did well at the party.”

Henryk nodded. “I’ll do what I do best and stick to the shadows. There’s something else you should know, though. The imposter knows what I am. Which means, by now, Micolash probably does too. She called me an original… ever heard that word?”

“No.” Eileen frowned, brows knit. “I’ll do some looking into it for you.”

“Quietly,” Henryk insisted.

“Of course, love,” she said. “You know you’re safe with me.”

Henryk drew Eileen into another quick hug. “God, I miss being boring.”

She laughed softly in his ear. “You silly boy. You were never boring.”

Henryk gave Eileen a kiss on the forehead. “I don’t tell you enough how lovely you are.”

“Oh stop it, I’ll blush,” she said. “Let’s meet again soon, alright?”

“You know where to find me.”

 

-

 

Despite the urge Henryk had to go back to Gascoigne’s that night, some persistent anxiety told him to stay away. Just for a night. Give the man some space. Surely they both needed it. 

He had trouble getting asleep, staying asleep, feeling comfortable. Several times he snapped awake with the feeling of blood on his skin, only to realize it was a lingering nightmare. His bed felt too small and every time he told himself it was fine, his dreams betrayed him.

By the time the sun was out again, he knew that he’d wear these scars long after they’d healed. 

 

-

 

Henryk turned up at the Cathedral Ward the next day and filled Gascoigne and Henriett in on the news that Micolash was, perhaps, attempting to enact some punishment from a distance.

“What an asshole,” Gascoigne said. He was back in his full uniform, wraps and all. “I didn’t even fucking want this job and he’s out there trying to make my life harder. I’ll wring his skinny neck if I ever see him again.”

Henriett eyed her boss. “Careful now. He’s probably planning on you getting aggressive like that.” 

Gascoigne huffed. “That’s why I keep you around, huh?”

“You should give her a raise,” Henryk quipped.

Gascoigne turned to Henryk, then to Henriett. His lips curled down. “Oh, I don’t think I like you two being friends. That sounds like a recipe for ganging up on me.”

“We would never,” Henryk said. 

“That would be cruel,” Henriett added. 

Gascoigne grumbled. “I’m gone for one day and suddenly you two are finishing each other’s sentences.”

Henryk smiled. “But you’re not jealous, right?”

“Why, I don’t even know the meaning of the word,” Gascoigne said, offering up a wolfish grin. 

“Back to work,” Henriett said, snapping her fingers. “We may have more information, but none of it helps us figure out where Micolash has set up shop. How do we plan on shutting him down if we can’t find him?”

They all went quiet at that. 

“Where would a corrupt scientist take refuge?” Henryk asked. “A place where no one will bother him. Isolated?”

“A place where he has access to live subjects,” Henriett offered. “So it has to be close enough to some other city.”

“If I were him, I’d want to go somewhere that I didn’t have to prove myself,” Gascoigne said, turning to the map of the continent that hung from the wall. “Some place that doesn’t know as much about shifters. Pthumeru is out, because they know all about us, and Isz doesn’t really like us, so that’s no good. The Hinterlands make sense, but a guy like him wouldn’t do well in the extreme cold. Honestly, a place closer to the frontier fits. Far from Yharnam, and close to beast territory. Around your neck of the woods,” Gascoigne added, turning to face Henryk.

“I doubt he’d do well in Loran,” Henryk said. “They’re typically hostile to outsiders and they think Yharnam is too opulent, but beyond that… ” Henryk approached the map and touched the outline of Loran, tracing west. “The distance from Loran to full beast territory is pretty rough. A lot of cliffs and unfriendly terrain. I was always told to stay away. People were known to disappear on those paths.”

“Sounds like a convenient place to hide,” Henriett said. 

“Yes, but until we have irrefutable proof that a Yharnamite is involved in this, we can’t do anything about it,” Gascoigne said. “He’s untouchable so long as he’s out of sight.”

“My friend might be able to help us,” Henryk said. “She’s a bit of an expert at gathering intel.”

“Better than you?” Gascoigne asked.

Henryk took a breath. “Let’s just say she doesn’t get caught nearly as often as I do.”

Gascoigne chuckled. “Well, if she’s interested in helping us, it’s gotta be off the books.”

“I think that suits her just fine,” Henryk said. “I’ll talk to her as soon as I can.”

“Great, so we’re back to the waiting game,” Henriett said. 

“At least we have something to wait on,” Gascoigne told her. “We have to take what we can get. Just don’t let your guard down.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, boss,” Henriett said. 

“Are things calm at the prison?” Henryk asked.

“Samuel’s been put in solitary for the time being, so about as calm as it’ll get,” Gascoigne told him. “Hasn’t said a word about the whole thing, even while vomiting up the bones of an inmate the next morning.”

“Damn,” Henryk grimaced at the thought. 

“Sorry, you didn’t need to know that,” Gascoigne apologized. 

“It’s alright,” Henryk tried, but Gascoigne started up,

“I just…” He paused, head inclining toward Henriet. “Hey, maybe—”

“I’ll step out,” she said, already backing up. “Someone has to give some orders around here.”

She left, shutting the door behind her, and then they were alone again. Gascoigne walked toward Henryk, lowering his voice. “You sound tired.”

“Sleep doesn’t like me right now,” Henryk admitted. 

“Maybe it’ll like you better in my bed,” Gascoigne said, slipping a hand around Henryk’s back. “I got the space.”

Henryk rested a hand on the front of Gascoigne’s shirt, smoothing it down. “If you’re offering.”

“You know you’re welcome,” Gascoigne said, pulling them together until Henryk could lean against him. “You don’t live through what you did and just bounce back in a day. Doesn’t make you weak to want some company.”

“Don’t need company,” Henryk muttered, turning his face to Gascoigne’s. “Just you.”

The soft noise that Gascoigne made as he kissed Henryk was enough to soothe the anxiety that had been haunting him. It was the sound of reward and relief at once. That moment of  _ finally _ . There was no need to rush, no goal, just a minute to themselves to remember what they were shaped like.

“I missed you last night,” Gascoigne said when they broke apart. 

“Sorry,” Henryk said. “I don’t really know how to do this. I feel strange inviting myself over.”

“You didn’t used to have a problem showing up on my porch,” Gascoigne teased, dropping a hand down Henryk’s back, playing like he might untuck Henryk’s shirt.

“That was different,” Henryk said, running his fingers through Gascoigne’s hair, careful with his wraps. “You didn’t know it was me.”

“Well I can promise to rub your back if you come over tonight,” Gascoigne said, speaking low in Henryk’s ear. “I don’t care if you’ve got claws or not. Hell, might be fun if you scratch me a little.”

“Shut up,” Henryk said, but he was smiling. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“Just you,” Gascoigne said, running his hand back up Henryk’s side. “However you want to be.”

Henryk found himself stretching into Gascoigne’s touch. “You’re making it hard to concentrate.”

“How do you think I feel? At least you’re on medical leave. I have to go back to work for another couple of hours.” Gascoigne touched his lips to Henryk’s cheek. “I’m just going to be thinking about you.”

Henryk pressed into him, this talk so stupidly refreshing after everything else. “But wouldn’t it be nice to find me in your bed later?”

“About the best damn thing I can think of right now,” Gascoigne said. “That mean I can count on you?”

Henryk touched his fingers to the wraps, very lightly over Gascoigne’s eyes. “Yeah.”

“Go there now,” Gascoigne offered. “Rest while I’m out, if you can.”

Henryk nodded. “Thank you.”

“Go, before I forget I’m working,” Gascoigne added with a smirk. “I’m already weighing the consequences of leaving early.”

“I’m sure as shit not your boss,” Henryk said. “And I’ll full of bad ideas.”

Gascoigne laughed and pushed Henryk away. “Get lost.”

“You’ll find me later,” Henryk said. 

“Looking forward to it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mom said it's my turn to lead yharnam - Micolash


	15. Chapter 15

Henryk found the porch door ajar and slipped inside Gascoigne’s house. He’d already left a note for Eileen asking to meet the next morning and couldn’t wait to get some of the rest he’d missed out on. He’d tricked himself into forgetting how comfortable Gascoigne’s bed had become, but after shamelessly stealing some clothes from the man’s dresser, he happily burrowed under the covers.

The smell was enough to soothe his mind. Sleep was easy to find here.

In his dream, he was neither human nor feline. Trapped somewhere in between, horrific, slow and clumsy. Everything was impossible for him, and everyone turned away. He couldn’t function, couldn’t breathe, suffocated by his own foolishness.

Better to cut out the poison himself.

He awoke to a soft touch: a hand on his cheek. “You okay?”

Henryk pulled Gascoigne by the arm down to him. The shifter didn’t hesitate to get in the bed beside Henryk and wrap him up.

Henryk opened his eyes, glad to see Gascoigne’s blue gaze so close. “Not a fan of nightmares.”

“You’re awake now, I promise,” Gascoigne responded.

Henryk sighed. “Thanks.”

“Have you eaten?”

Henryk shook his head.

“Let me make you something,” Gascoigne said, coaxing Henryk up. “Warm food will make you feel better.”

Henryk didn’t have the energy to argue that food, warm or not, had nothing to do with nightmares, so he just followed after the other man. Gascoigne started going through his kitchen and Henryk sat on the counter and watched him cook for a while. It didn’t really occur to him until they were seated at the table that they were eating dinner together. He paused, fork half raised to his mouth, letting it sink in. How … normal of them.

“You good?” Gascoigne asked, eyebrow quirked in amusement.

Henryk nodded. “You should let me make you something next time.”

“You gonna one-up me?” Gascoigne asked, smiling.

“Of course,” Henryk assured him. “What else am I here for?”

“Certainly not because you enjoy my company,” Gascoigne said.

“Don’t be absurd,” Henryk responded before standing up and leaning over the table just to steal a kiss. “I just like showing off.”

Gascoigne grinned. “Lucky me.”

Just like that, the dreams seemed far away. When dinner was through, Henryk didn’t ask, just started cleaning up the dishes. Gascoigne stood behind him at the sink, hands settling around Henryk’s middle. He wasn’t trying to stop Henryk, just sort of nuzzling his face to Henryk’s head, occasionally nipping at his ear. It didn’t seem like he was starting anything, just enjoying a moment.  

“You good?” Henryk asked, smiling.

“Sorry,” Gascoigne muttered. “The wolf is a little restless.”

“That’s not a euphemism, right?” Henryk teased.

Gascoigne chuckled before he squeezed Henryk a little tighter. “Nah. You mind if I shift?”

“‘Course not,” Henryk said, wondering if this meant something different to the two of them.

“Thanks,” Gascoigne said, kissing the side of Henryk’s face before detaching from him. He padded down the hall and Henryk could feel a charge in the air, like rain on its way, and then he heard the distinct sound of claws on wooden floors. Henryk turned to see the wolf squeeze into the kitchen, tail thumping loudly against the cupboards.

Henryk smirked as the wolf came closer. “I guess I owe you, huh?”

He stepped away from the sink, grabbing a towel as the wolf came up and pressed his head to Henryk’s side.

“Alright, alright,” Henryk ran his fingers through the wolf’s fur around his ears. “Big softie.”

The wolf made a noise like a little groan and Henryk laughed. “Talkative even when you can’t speak. Let’s sit down.”

The wolf made room for Henryk and he started walking toward the living room couch, then stopped. “You’re too big for this house.”

The wolf pressed his nose to Henryk’s back, pushing him toward the hall. Henryk let himself be herded back to Gascoigne’s room. He opened the door wide for the wolf who immediately climbed into the bed. One of his back legs hung off the edge, but he mostly fit. Henryk laughed again, sitting with his back to the headboard. The wolf inched forward, resting his head in Henryk’s lap, tail haphazardly smacking the covers as Henryk pet him.

They stayed like that for a while, and Henryk started talking to the wolf, not really caring that he couldn’t respond.

“How much of you is you when you’re like this?” Henryk asked. “I’ve never really asked other shifters what it’s like for them. I feel like for me, the cat rarely takes control, but I hear other shifters talk like they’re sharing a body with two minds.”

The wolf stretched a massive paw out, resting it on Henryk’s shoulder. Henryk scratched along the wolf’s front leg. “I think for me it’s closer to pure shapeshifting. But it seems like for you, it’s more about passing control back and forth.”

The wolf made another noise, before sitting up to look Henryk in the eyes. There was something silly about a massive wolf sitting up in a bed like this, but Henryk just found himself feeling lucky that he was there. Henryk touched the wolf’s face with both hands.

“Do you both feel the same way about me?” Henryk asked.

The wolf came closer, head lowered, ears flat. Henryk pulled him in, pressing a kiss to the wolf’s snout. The wolf turned his head and Henryk rested his face against the wolf’s, cheek to cheek. The two of them leaned into each other, and Henryk felt something opening up in his chest. It was as if he was learning a new word, but he didn’t know the sound of it yet. The wolf licked Henryk’s neck and started pushing into him hard enough that he almost lost his balance.

“Hey, now,” Henryk said, but the wolf started nudging him around.

Henryk gave in and let the wolf corral him away from the headboard and then unceremoniously trap him against the bed so he could start licking Henryk again, getting his ear and face.

“Fuck, come on,” but Henryk was laughing.

The wolf settled down around him and Henryk felt the urge to shift, but he knew the cat wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want to be even smaller, he wanted to match Gascoigne. So he stayed human instead, nestled up against the wolf’s body. He closed his eyes, lulled by the beating of the wolf’s heart.

Human or animal, it didn’t matter. This was good no matter what form Gascoigne took.

 

-

 

Gascoigne woke Henryk some time later with quiet words.

“Hey,” he spoke. “You awake?”

Henryk nodded.

Gascoigne wrapped his arms around Henryk’s chest. “The wolf has his own mind most of the time. Like we’re sharing a room with the same view, you know? He might see things more simply than I do, but he always understands what we’re both looking at. It was difficult for a while, trying to reconcile that second mind. But lately, it’s been easier to work with him. We want the same thing.”

Henryk turned, catching Gascoigne in a kiss. It took barely anything to turn that soft feeling into something sharper. Gascoigne handled him much easier as a human. There was a moment as Gascoigne undressed Henryk where Henryk felt like more than just fabric was being pulled from him. Henryk was somehow more naked than he’d ever been, feeling Gascoigne pressing his lips to Henryk’s skin at random. He treated every part of Henryk as something good, something desirable.

Even though he was nearly overwhelmed by it, Henryk forced himself to keep his eyes open, trained on Gascoigne and the sight of him licking Henryk’s inner thigh. Henryk couldn’t help the moan that escaped him. Sure, they’d been here before, but something about this tasted better.

Gascoigne’s gaze flicked up to Henryk’s and he growled a little, nostrils flared. “Can’t fucking take it when you look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Henryk asked, partly curious for the truth, partly just wanting to hear more of Gascoigne’s torn up voice.

Gascoigne crawled over top of Henryk, leaning in to speak low right to his ear. “Like you want to put your claws in me.”

It was true. Henryk pulled Gascoigne’s hips down against him, digging his fingers into Gascoigne’s muscles. “Would if I could.”

Gascoigne laughed. “We can work on it. Keep doing that.”

Henryk gripped him tighter, an urge taking hold of him. Now that he’d grown somewhat accustomed to being here, he realized he could be a little more appreciative.

“How ‘bout you let me look at you?” Henryk asked.

The request took Gascoigne by surprise from the way he smiled at it. “What, you want to draw me?”

“You move too fast for your own good,” Henryk said, running his hands up Gascoigne’s back. “Maybe I want to take it slow.”

Gascoigne looked amused, but he just tilted his head. “Alright.”

Henryk guided the other man onto his back, sitting up beside him. “Think you’re the only one who likes looking?” Henryk teased. “You fuckin’ seen yourself?”

Gascoigne smirked. “I prefer looking at you.”

Henryk chuckled, leaning down to kiss Gascoigne’s chest. “You never let me see you.”

“I’m all yours,” Gascoigne said, though his voice had gone quiet.

Henryk started with Gascoigne’s face. He ran his fingers over the curves of Gascoigne’s cheekbones, down his jaw, lightly over his neck. He kissed between Gascoigne’s eyes, then below his ear just to quietly whisper, “handsome man.” Gascoigne laughed just a little.

Hands wandering over Gascoigne’s torso, Henryk found little marks from long forgotten fights. He didn’t need to ask, it wasn’t about that, but he pressed his lips to every single one. He was sure there were many stories slashed into Gascoigne’s skin, but for now, Henryk just wanted to know the man as he was.

Henryk lifted one of Gascoigne’s hands up to his face, trailing his fingertips down the man’s arm. Gascoigne closed his eyes, sighing at the light touch.

“Nobody ever touches you soft, do they?” Henryk asked.

Gascoigne just shook his head.

“Well, luckily I got a thing for your arms,” Henryk told him, keeping it up.

“A thing?” Gascoigne echoed, opening one eye.

“You kidding?” Henryk smiled. “Man, this whole time I thought you knew what you were doing.”

“What does that mean?” Gascoigne asked, hand gripping Henryk’s neck, pulling him closer. “Huh?”

Henryk grinned, straddling Gascoigne’s middle. He continued rubbing his fingers into Gascoigne’s arms. “Absolutely nothing.”

“You little…” Gascoigne shook his head, eyes alight. “Here I thought we were getting closer.”

Henryk laughed, pressing hard into the other man’s shoulder, eliciting a pleased noise from him. “I promise you, no one has ever gotten me to give them a massage, so you better enjoy it.”

“Ah,” Gascoigne smiled. “I’ll shut up now.”

Henryk kissed him. It was meant to be quick, but then he felt Gascoigne’s arms wind around his back as it went on and he didn’t want to stop. Derailed again, or maybe back on track— he didn’t care. Nothing was bad when they were like this: the whole night ahead of them and the house to themselves and no more risk of discovery.

Finally, he could take his time.

When Henryk pulled away, Gascoigne gave a soft, “come back here.”

Henryk shook his head. “I want to try something.”

“Another bad idea of yours?” Gascoigne asked, smiling.

Henryk inched down the bed, face nuzzled to Gascoigne’s chest. “Definitely.”

Gascoigne started to laugh, low and smokey, just how Henryk liked. “You gonna tell me what it is?”

“Nope.” Henryk pressed a kiss to Gascoigne’s stomach, then to the pale hair along his abdomen. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of Gascoigne’s pants. “Just tell me what you think when you figure it out.”

Gascoigne took a deep breath in while Henryk undressed him. “I think I’m starting to get the picture.”

Henryk smiled, sliding his hands up Gascoigne’s thighs. Adrenaline had started coursing through him as he settled between Gascoigne’s legs. “Don’t spoil it.”

“For who?” Gascoigne asked, grinning.

“Shh,” Henryk said, leaning down to get a taste. He was already half-drunk off the thought, but actually doing it was far more intoxicating. Tongue to skin, the room smelling like impatience. Mostly, it was the sound that Gascoigne made as Henryk licked at him that pushed Henryk from hungry to starving. He knew by now how much he liked the sound of Gascoigne letting go. How quickly the shifter devolved as Henryk guided him into his mouth was just a bonus.

It took a minute for Henryk to figure out how to keep his teeth back, another to resist the urge to start scratching up Gascoigne’s hips with claws. Gascoigne gripped the back of Henryk’s neck, not to move him, just to feel.

“Hen, I— _oh fuck,_ that’s— so… ” Gascoigne lost his direction in a pleased sigh, but Henryk liked his words regardless.

The way Gascoigne’s breathing shifted as Henryk got him deeper, his legs tensing around Henryk’s body, the way he held Henryk’s neck with his hand, all of it was lovely encouragement, but Henryk couldn’t deny that he liked getting the most out of Gascoigne. He wanted this scent and this taste so completely— wanted to own a little part of the wolf.

It made it easy.

“Don’t stop,” Gascoigne breathed.

To be rewarded so fully for his greed.

 

-

 

Henryk woke up before Gascoigne and realized he didn’t have any of his own clothes with him. He touched Gascoigne’s shoulder, whispering, “I have to leave.”

Gascoigne’s arms locked around him. “No.”

“Gasc,” Henryk said, trying to sound stern. “I have that meeting with my friend.”

“I’m the Captain,” Gascoigne responded, voice gruff with sleep.

“Not in this bed, you’re not,” Henryk said.

“How do I get you to come back later?” Gascoigne asked, finally opening his eyes. He kissed Henryk lazily. “If my bureaucratic powers mean nothing to you.”

Henryk tried not to smile. “Just ask.”

“That’s far too simple,” Gascoigne said. “What’s the catch?”

“I’m always late,” Henryk told him.

It took a few minutes of _convincing_ to let Gascoigne release Henryk, but then he headed home to prepare for his meeting with Eileen. He was surprised to see a letter slipped under his front door. He picked it up, squinting at the nearly illegible script.

~~_Brother_ ~~

_Please believe me when i tell you i have no interest in causing you any more stress. i took this job so i could stop being a burden. Officially: you are known as the captain’s friend. Unofficially: you know i know he knows about you. what a sentence eh? i really want you to have a friend better than me which is why i’m telling you that you and the captain are to be interviewed quite soon. A certain high level official is curious if you know why the captain has been so resistant to his little deer friend. Hopefully this letter finds you in time. Don’t underestimate Ludwig’s powers of deduction. He’s probably going to talk to the captain again after he chats with you. He knows how best to exploit people’s weaknesses and thinks if he catches the captain right before the moon he’ll be more honest._

_i’m only telling you this because. well. i’m happy for you. The captain must have proved himself a good man for you to reveal yourself to him like that._

_Here’s hoping he stays that way_

_-B_

Henryk immediately torn the letter to shreds, confusion twisting through him. It seemed too good to be true to think that Brador really had turned a new leaf and was just trying to help Henryk. That being said, Ludwig coming to interview him was entirely too real and terrifying to consider for the moment. He focused on the task at hand. One step at a time.

 

-

 

Eileen gave Henryk a smile when she saw him. “I was surprised to get another note so soon.”

“We’ve been doing some brainstorming,” Henryk told her. He explained their theories on where Micolash might be hiding.

She nodded. “Intriguing.”

“I was wondering if Maria might allow you to pay a visit if you thought the lead was worth investigating,” Henryk said.

Eileen gave him a smirk. “I’ll bring it up to her, see what she has planned, but I’d say it’s definitely a solid lead. Oh, and, it might be nothing, but I remembered a name you might want to follow up on. Yurie, she’s a student working on some research project on the mythology of shifters. You look young enough that you could pass for a fellow student if you wanted to ask her some questions about her thesis.”

Henryk watched Eileen as she jotted something down in a notebook. “Her thesis?”

“She’s collecting stories and myths about shifters from different places.” Eileen tore out the page and handed it to Henryk. “Naturally, her research came up to Maria, so I did a bit of sniffing and she seems harmless, but there’s potential in her work to shed some light on your own story. She has an internship that puts her in Old Yharnam a couple times a week. You might even catch her there today.”

Henryk took the paper with an address in Old Yharnam. “Thank you…”

“Of course, I can’t speak to the girl’s willingness to share her research,” Eileen went on. “But if you play your cards right, she might enlighten an interested stranger. Especially one who’s heard rumors about different kinds of shifters. Maybe mention you’re from Loran and don’t wear your uniform. Good luck. Let me know if she tells you anything interesting.”

Henryk nodded, heart racing. “Of course.”

Eileen gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Careful out there. I’ll send you word about the mission either way.”

 

-

 

Old Yharnam was an odd place, to say the least. It was the part of the city most untouched by time which was evident by the shitty public transit and sudden shift in design. Yharnam had introduced a network of taxis and even a public trolley years ago, but Old Yharnam had only one system of carriages and it was never a question of ‘will it be on time?’ as it was ‘how late will it be today?’. Still, Henryk kind of liked the complete nonsensical design of the streets. Yharnam proper had been built in such a way that much of Old Yharnam was literally cast in the shadow of the newer parts of the city so half the time they needed the street lamps lit even in the middle of the day.

Henryk walked the city streets, heading deeper into the maze of buildings, wondering how many people out here were half-breeds in disguise. He could smell it on the air. The address that Eileen had given him turned out to be the location of a library. Henryk stepped inside the cramped building, glancing around the poorly lit space for some kind of front desk.

He had to sniff out the nearest person around the corner, a man seated behind a counter nearly buried in a pile of old books. He, too, was a half-breed.

“Hello,” Henryk started, feeling awkward. He hadn’t really thought through his cover story.

The man didn’t look at Henryk, just adjusted his glasses as he inspected the interior of some book. “Hello yourself. How can I help you?”

Henryk cleared his throat. “I’m looking for someone.”

“We’re a library, not the police,” the man said. Henryk could hear just the slightest catch to his voice, a lisp or something. Teeth were always the hardest part of a broken shift to cover up.

“She might work here,” Henryk clarified. “Yurie. A colleague referred her to me.”

The man finally looked up at Henryk. “Are you student as well?”

“Yeah,” Henryk said, sticking his hands in his pockets.

The man quirked an eyebrow before pointing down the hall. “She’s usually in the archives. Make it quick. I don’t pay her to chat.”

Henryk thanked him and scurried down the hall to avoid more of the man’s scrutiny. Dust motes swirled through the air the farther back he walked. It was an odd realization that he was walking among books older than he was, in a building constructed by hands long since passed. A different version of Yharnam that no longer existed, but traces of it lived on.

Sure enough, at the back of the library there was a room filled with actual scrolls labeled ARCHIVES, though the ‘C’ had fallen off at some point and was only discernible through the space it had left behind. There was a girl seated at a table pouring over one of the scrolls. She turned to look at Henryk when he stepped into the room. He could smell she was a shifter, though not one he’d ever encountered.

“May I help you?” she asked.

“Uh, maybe,” Henryk said. “I was told about your thesis. I wondered if I could talk to you about it.”

She looked skeptical. “You came here and not the college?”

“I… don’t go to your school,” Henryk admitted. “I don’t go to any school.”

She stood from her chair, glaring at Henryk through narrowed eyes. “Who are you?”

“Nobody really,” he said. “Just someone with a personal interest in the history of shifters. I have a story you might like to hear.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re not some reporter, are you? I’ve no interest in scandals.”

“No, no,” Henryk waved his hands. “It’s not like that. I just… really want to know if there are other stories like the one I know.”

“Why don’t you tell me this tale?” she prompted. “And we’ll go from there.”

“MInd if I sit? It’s kind of a long one,” he said.

She gestured to the table and Henryk pulled his jacket off and took a seat. She did the same, neatly setting the scroll aside.

“You see, I’m from Loran,” Henryk started.

This immediately peaked Yurie’s interest. “Oh?”

He nodded. “My parents, though, I don’t know if they were actually from Loran or not. That’s just where they were when they had me, and where they died. They told me a lot of stories that I assumed they’d made up, but even if they’re not real, it could mean something about their heritage. I don’t remember much about them. They didn’t talk about their own history to me, and they died when I was young, so all I really have left of them are those bedtime stories. One in particular stuck with me, about a boy who could shift into a cat.”

“Do you mind if I write this down?” Yurie asked.

Henryk shook his head. “So long as I know this won’t get back to me.”

“Confidential,” she assured him, producing a notebook from her bag on the floor. “Go on.”

“When I was in Loran, it didn’t seem so strange, but after coming to Yharnam, I know now that feline shifts are pretty rare as it is,” Henryk told her. “So that was odd enough, but the real fun of the story was that he could shift into a cat about the size of your average house cat.”

Yurie didn’t react except to start scribbling notes.

“This boy, he got teased a lot for being smaller than other human boys, but after getting into a school yard fight, found out he was a shifter. But… not quite the same. The size was one thing, of course, but it wasn’t just that. He could shift different aspects of his senses at will, eyesight, smell, sound, that kind of thing. And, this boy was different because he wasn’t exactly sharing his body with the animal. When he shifted, he was still very much human minded, just in the body of the cat. He had a lot more control like that. And, even while the boy aged and turned into a man, his shift remained as small as a house cat.”

Yurie was nodding as she wrote.

“There’s no real point to the story,” Henryk said. “Just something I liked hearing about. An aberration, you know? When I heard you were collecting stories about shifters, I wondered if you’d heard any others like that. Might shed some light on where my parents are from.”

Yurie started going through her bag and pulled out another worn notebook. “Did you know that in Pthumeru there are legends of shapeshifters going back for hundreds of years?”

Henryk shook his head.

Yurie smiled. “Yharnam likes to think they invented the whole thing, but the truth is they were late to the party. Or, at least, that’s what the legends will have me think. I can’t confirm any of it, of course, but the tales are always fun to hear. According to all the old ones I’ve collected, the history seems to suggest that the first shapeshifter wasn’t a wolf at all, but a cat like your boy.”

Yurie paged through the book. “Most of the stories are actually bedtime stories like yours. A lot of Pthumeru parents would tell their kids stories about the old gods. Great Ones that humans would make pacts with in order to borrow their forms. Those tales sound a lot more like yours then Yharnam tales of inviting animal spirits into you. The thing with those old shapeshifters is that they weren’t sharing minds, they were just borrowing power. And, eventually, they were meant to return it. Given your story and, to be blunt, you don’t _look_ like a Yharnamite, I’d wager you’ve got some Pthumerian in you.”

Henryk chuckled. “What the hell were some Pthumerians doing in Loran?”

Yurie shrugged. “People travel the world for all sorts of reasons. Yharnam and Pthumeru work together to stave off beast attacks since Pthumeru is so close to the frontier and a lot of Pthumerians don’t like asking their shifters to fight, so we send Yharnamites to do it for them, and they send us supplies in return. A lot of cross contamination happens like that.”

“Why don’t Yharnamites ever tell stories about those old shapeshifters?” Henryk asked.

“Probably because, according to the legends, they don’t exist anymore. All the stories end the same way. The shapeshifters gave their power back because they were no longer needed. Those original shapeshifters go back to the initial struggle for power between the beasts and humans when Pthumeru was first being settled. Humans sought a way to carve out a place for themselves and the Great Ones answered. For a time.”

Henryk smiled to himself. “Are there any stories about rogue shapeshifters running away with that power?”

Yurie shook her head. “Probably because the whole point was to teach kids to only shift when you have to. They weren’t trying to glorify shifting, which is probably why they’re not a fan of using shifters to fight their battles. It’s interesting, though. In your stories, did the shifter have more than one form?”

“No,” Henryk said, frowning. “Is that odd?”

“There’s no such thing as odd, just inconsistent,” she said. “Pthumerian legends say that shapeshifters didn’t have just one form. It was more flexible than that. If you could turn into a bird, for instance, you could turn into any _kind_ of bird, not just a raven or just a hawk.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” Henryk said.

She smiled. “Very.”

“May I ask what led you to this project?” Henryk asked.

Yurie glanced down at her notebooks. “Same as you. My parents had overactive imaginations.”

“Were they Pthumerian?” Henryk asked.

She shook her head. “Supposedly, my parents were from the other side of beast territory, far to the east, though they aren’t around anymore for me to ask. They used to tell me the story of a trickster god who took the shape of prized animals in order to lure human poachers into traps.”

Henryk laughed.

“Thank you for sharing your story with me,” Yurie said.

“Hey, no problem. I’d like to think it could do someone some good,” he said, standing from his chair.

Yurie watched him put his coat on. “If you remember any other stories from your parents, feel free to come find me.”

“I will,” Henryk promised.

“And, forgive me if I’m overstepping my bounds here, but I’m more than happy to talk to you as one outsider to another,” she offered. “Yharnam doesn’t always make it easy for those of us who don’t look the same.”

Henryk paused, hand on the back of the chair he’d been sitting on.

“Pack mentality can be hard to navigate,” she added. “When you’re not a dog.”

Henryk nodded, smiling. “Let me ask you one more thing.”

She nodded.

“Do you think those old shapeshifters were real?”

She closed her notebook. “As much as I like the thought, no, I don’t think so.”

 

-

 

Remembering Brador’s letter, Henryk stopped at his own home after his meeting with Yurie. He wished he could speed up this process and get the interview over with. It occurred to him that he didn’t know if they’d come to his house or to his work. Better safe than sorry, though. He decided to go through his home and get rid of any signs of the cat. No sense risking Ludwig catching the scent in both places.

Henryk thought a lot about Yurie’s words as he cleaned up. More than one form intrigued him, but, of course, he’d never even tried. As far as anyone knew, shifters only took one form and that shift was who you were. No one ever talked about it differently in Yharnam.

Henryk hid his stash of aconite in the bathroom with some pain killers. At a glance, they blended well enough.

It was nearly sundown when Henryk felt satisfied and decided to go back to the Cathedral Ward.

“Plain clothes today?” Henriett remarked, opening the door to Gascoigne’s office.

Henryk shrugged. “May as well do the whole ‘medical leave’ thing like I’m supposed to.”

“What does your friend say?” Henriett asked as Henryk entered the room and set a bag on Gascoigne’s desk. The man himself wasn’t there.

“She’s in, as long as she can make the trip work,” Henryk said. “I’m just waiting to hear if she gets approval.”

Henriett folded her arms. “Very mysterious.”

“I promise it’s legitimate.”

“I believe you,” Henriett said. “But it’s still mysterious.”

Henryk chuckled. “Sorry I can’t be more elaborate. Where’s the wolf?”

“Upper Ward,” Henriett said. “Said he had to pay an old friend a visit.”

Henryk frowned. “His watcher?”

She pulled a face. “I’m not sure, sorry. He seemed… in too good a mood for it to be about the watchers, though. He usually gets a bit more surly when he knows he’s dealing with that.”

Henryk smirked. “Well I guess that’s a good thing. If he comes back here, can you tell him to bring that bag home with him?”

She gave a dramatic bow. “I live to serve the prince.”

“Oh, hush,” he said.

“If the boss is a prince, what does that make you?” Henriett asked.

Henryk took a breath, glancing around the room. “An idiot.”

She laughed. “You two are very, uh, opposites attract, huh?”

“I could sit here and defend whatever it is that we have, but it’s honestly easier just to admit that I know he’s a mess, but I am too, so.”

Henriett pretended to wipe her eyes. “Inspirational. Truly.”

“God, I see now why you work so well with him,” Henryk said. “Both of you are bullies.”

She laughed. “Welcome to our shitty club where we try not to drown by making fun of all of the other shifters we know. Half of our meetings are taking bets on whether or not we think someone is straight. We get a lot done, as you can see.”

Henryk shook his head. “Maybe I _should_ transfer over here.”

“Then you’d be dating your boss and I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Henriett added. “Better to keep those two things separate, yeah?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Henryk said. “There goes that.”

“Just do me a favor and don’t tell Gascoigne that I just talked you out of transfering. I think he might kill me if he found out,” she said.

Henryk shrugged. “I can’t promise anything.”

“Go home, Mr. Medical Leave. It’s not safe around here when the wolf is out of the office,” Henriett told him with a pleasant smile.

Henryk bid her goodbye and took the long way back. First, stopping off at his home to shift, and then through the porch door at Gascoigne’s. He picked a book off Gascoigne’s shelf and found the bookmark he’d left in it days ago.

The story was fairly bland, but there was something freeing about reading it. Henryk was downright charmed to know that Gascoigne enjoyed romance novels. Sure, it was different than the mysteries Henryk preferred, but it was nice to read something so shameless. Even more so when he considered that all the books were from the perspective of someone lusting after a handsome man.

It put a smile on his face. Gascoigne had more in common with the protagonist of a bodice ripper than he did with his fellow wolves.

All this time, he just wanted a guy to like him back.

Henryk blinked, realizing he’d read the same sentence three times. There was a fist in his chest. They were lucky, weren’t they? What were the odds on it? He didn’t want to know.

When the door to the bedroom opened, and Gascoigne came in all smiles with Henryk’s bag in his hand, the man laughed. “Leaving me packages to deliver? I should charge a fee.”

Henryk jumped to his feet and went to him, reaching up to his neck. Gascoigne dropped the bag and scooped him up by the waist like it was nothing.

“Hope there wasn’t anything valuable in there,” Gascoigne said, voice gone quiet.

Henryk just kissed him.

Gascoigne sort of laughed into it and Henryk breathed him in. His hands found the knot of Gascoigne’s wraps and he started undoing them.

“You smell good,” Gascoigne whispered as Henryk dropped the fabric to the ground. “Kinda like you’ve been thinking about me.”

Henryk ran a hand through Gascoigne’s hair. “Not even you have that power, but nice try.”

“Humor me,” Gascoigne said.

“Oh, _Captain_ ,” Henryk sighed, pretending to fan himself. “I’ve been so lonely without you. All day I’ve been toiling away at the… uh, where would I work if I were the main character in a romance novel?”

Gascoigne grinned. “Probably at your parents’ flower shop or something. Not that I’d know.”

“‘Course not,” Henryk said. He cleared his throat. “Oh, but working all day in that wretched flower shop, watching all those young men come and buy beautiful things for their sweethearts, all I could think of was you. I, of course, begged my parents to allow me to branch out and find a better job with some upward movement. Maybe something where I can move around a bit more. I don’t really like sitting all day. Hurts my back.”

“You’re terrible at this,” Gascoigne said. “Just kiss me.”

“Sorry,” Henryk said, leaning in. “I was never really good at flirting.”

Gascoigne smiled. “Don’t sell yourself short. You did pretty fucking well when I first met you. After you decided you didn’t hate me, of course.”

“Ah, so you noticed.”

“Act one is always deciding the protagonist doesn’t hate the love interest,” Gascoigne explained while Henryk started dotting kisses down his face. “Then, of course, they quickly realize just how screwed they are.”

“And then, shortly after, they get screwed, right?” Henryk asked.

Gascoigne nodded. “Every time.”

“Let’s do that part again,” Henryk said. “It’s always fun.”

“Read my mind.”

 

-

 

It was a reminder of how very alive he was. Feeling Gascoigne like that, absolutely nothing between them, had become this comfortable fire. It wasn’t any less hot, Henryk just wasn’t scared of it anymore. It made it better, easier, so when Gascoigne asked him what he liked, he could actually answer.

And it wasn’t strange afterwards, no guessing game about what to do or when to leave or how to sleep.

They’d begun to make things clearer.

“Come here,” Gascoigne said after Henryk had come back from getting a glass of water.

Henryk shuffled toward him under the covers, and the man practically snatched him up when he was close enough. Now that he knew it was alright, Gascoigne did not hesitate to be as close to Henryk as possible when they were naked like this.

“What are you up to?” Henryk asked, just plain curious as the main pressed his face to the back of Henryk’s neck, nipping at his skin.

“A bit of the wolf,” Gascoigne admitted. “You just taste so damn good like this.”

“You’re not, I don’t know, marking me?”

Gascoigne chuckled. “If I was going to mark you, I’d do it somewhere more obvious.”

“So that _is_ a thing,” Henryk said, turning to look at him.

“Yeah, sometimes,” Gascoigne said. “If you’re trying to prove a point.”

“What point would you be trying to prove?” Henryk asked.

“That you’re so wild about someone, you don’t care who sees,” Gascoigne told him. “Sometimes people do it to piss off their parents or guardians. Others do it when they’re feeling territorial. But sometimes, you just _want_ to.”

Henryk smirked. “Where do people usually do it?”

Gascoigne touched Henryk’s neck with his fingertips. “The throat is a common spot. If you want to make things crystal clear. But I’ve seen people with them on their wrists, too,” he said, picking up Henryk’s arm and kissing just below his palm.

“Is it just a bite?” Henryk asked.

“Could be,” Gascoigne said, raising his hand up and shifting his fingertips into claws. “Or a scratch.”

Henryk pulled Gascoigne’s hand to his face and kissed his knuckles. Gascoigne very lightly ran his nails down Henryk’s back, sending pleasant goosebumps down his skin.

Henryk raised his hand up. “Can you teach me how to do a partial shift?”

“I can try,” Gascoigne said, pressing his clawed hand against Henryk’s. “For me, it’s a bit like gearing up for a regular shift, and then kind of catching myself and pushing some of that energy straight to my hands. Feels a little weird, like you’re holding your breath.”

Henryk tried to conjure up the feeling of something bigger and stronger. A shifter who could do more than he ever could. Someone like Gascoigne.

When they were skin to skin, Henryk could always feel the wolf inside Gascoigne. Recently, he felt even more aware of it, and Henryk wondered if his own shift was growing stronger with Gascoigne’s help. He wasn’t sure if that made any sense, but it _felt_ right and, lately, all he really had to go on were feelings. It was a new sensation: instinct.

How long had he spent denying it?

Henryk felt the energy of the shift gathering, and he tensed his hand, willing it to isolate.

“That’s it,” Gascoigne said.

Just like he did with his sense, only a more physical push. Henryk saw his hand begin to react, and he couldn’t help it. There was a brief flash of pain as the claws started to manifest, and Henryk felt the urge to keep going and fully shift, the pull into that smaller body, but he fought it off with gritted teeth.

“Don’t let go all at once,” Gascoigne warned. “Slowly.”

Henryk forced himself to breathe through it, climbing back to normal. It felt like he had a rubber band taught inside his hand, but it was starting to balance out.

Gascoigne smiled. “Not bad.”

“You know, I had a conversation with someone today about old myths,” Henryk said. He relayed his conversation with Yurie to Gascoigne, who listened while studying Henryk’s clawed hand.

“So you’re telling me that I got some kind of Pthumerian god in my bed?” Gascoigne asked, grinning.

Henryk put his half-shifted hand on Gascoigne’s hip, pressing the tip of a claw right against his skin. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I said.”

Gascoigne held his gaze. “Well, I’d be a fool not to accept a mark from you.”

Henryk did it quickly, just a light scratch up Gascoigne’s hip. It immediately turned red against Gascoigne’s pale skin. Gascoigne breathed in, eyes bright, and took Henryk’s own hip in return, pressing into him.

“Just for us,” Gascoigne said, slicing a line across Henryk’s skin.

Henryk kissed him through the burn.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> had to make a lil edit but it... changes a thing... sorry.  
> originally brador's letter was meant to have the strikethrough text over the word 'brother' because he thought better of the title after he wrote the rest of the letter.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Writer-boy here just to say... thank you! I'm honestly shocked at myself for maintaining this story for as long as I have and it is largely due to everyone here and on twitter being incredibly supportive and enthusiastic. Every comment, kudos and @ on twit is fuel for the tank honestly. You are all so kind and it just brings joy to my heart! It makes me feel good about my writing and for a very long time, I was not feeling good about my writing at all. This is restoring some of my faith in humanity which might seem dramatic, but (shrug) I take what I can get. Our little slice of this fandom is the best piece of the cake! I don't know... metaphors are hard. What I'm trying to say is that I very much enjoy writing this story for you lovely folks, even though I think I have invited a curse onto my spell check for all the names that aren't real.  
> (Seriously, ao3 usually provides spell check when you paste things into rich-text, but lately it gives up on my chapters part of the way through. I've pushed it too far, but I regret nothing. Except all the typos that have inevitably slipped through the cracks.)  
> With love,  
> Oodles

Henryk almost forgot to warn Gascoigne about Brador’s letter. He remembered the next morning while they were debating the hazards of leaving the bed. 

“That old man doesn’t know when to quit,” Gascoigne grumbled. “Will you be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Henryk told him. “What about you?”

Gascoigne breathed, slowly letting out a groan. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be okay.”

“That didn’t sound like okay,” Henryk said, staring at him.

Gascoigne waved his hand. “I’m just being dramatic. It’ll pass. The full moon approach-eth, or whatever.”

Henryk found himself smiling. “Just let me know what happens, okay?”

“Of course. You going in today?”

Henryk nodded. “I’m getting bored.”

Gascoigne put his hands on Henryk’s face. “Bored isn’t healed.”

Henryk pouted. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“Fine. Just don’t do anything stupid,” Gascoigne warned, leaning in close to kiss Henryk’s head. “I forbid you from getting hurt again.”

“You can’t just will it from happening,” Henryk said. “I could stub my toe on the stairs or get kicked by an errant horse.”

“No,” Gascoigne shook his head. “I forbid it.”

“Okay, so if I get a papercut or a headache today, I’ll lodge a formal complaint with the offices of Captain Gascoigne?” Henryk asked, smirking. 

“Yeah, you should make a one on one appointment with him,” Gascoigne said, meeting Henryk’s smile. “He moonlights as a doctor, I hear.”

“Mmm, I hear he’s full of shit,” Henryk said. “But he’s handsome enough, I’d let him try.”

 

-

 

Henryk had the sound of Gascoigne’s laughter in his head all the way to the league. He paid Valtr a visit and found the twins and a third man he’d never seen before seated in the office.

“Ah, Henryk,” Valtr waved him into the room. “Meet our newest recruit.”

“I didn’t know we were hiring,” Henryk said, stepping in to assess the young man.

He adjusted his glasses before extending his hand. Everything about him seemed impeccably placed. “Nice to meet you. I’m Yamamura.”

Henryk shook the guy’s hand, taking a quick breath to confirm that he was a non-shifter. “Henryk. Welcome.”

“Thank you.”

“The twins will be showing him around today,” Valtr said. “Which frees you and I up to continue strategizing on this Micolash thing. Off with you.”

Valtr shooed the twins and the newbie out of the room and Henryk sat down. “Am I crazy or are you replacing me?”

Valtr sat down as well. “Something tells me that, sooner or later, you will begin to get more appealing offers than what I can do for you. I’m honestly surprised you’ve stuck with me for as long as you have.”

Henryk looked to the window which was cracked just wide enough for a cat to slip through. “Wouldn’t it be nice to go back to, you know, all your employees just using the front door?”

Valtr straightened a piece of paper on his desk. “Someone as reckless as you really should be managed by a younger man.”

Henryk nodded. “I wouldn’t want to put you into an early retirement. That being said, I’m not exactly putting in resumes anywhere.”

“I’m in no rush to lose you,” Valtr assured him. “But I don’t want to be caught off guard when it happens. I assume you aren’t foolish enough to actually go and work for the Captain, considering your current  _ entanglements _ so you’ll need to figure out where it is you’ll be best utilized. I’ll train Yamamura while you decide.”

Henryk started laughing. “I don’t want to give you the satisfaction of saying you’ve always got the right idea, but it’s hard not to give credit where it’s due.”

Valtr offered a gentlemanly smile. “Much obliged, Henryk. Might I suggest looking into the offices of Lady Maria? I’ve no doubt she’d be a fair boss, and one accustomed to working quietly.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Henryk told him. “Let me catch you up.”

Valtr listened to Henryk’s thoughts on where Micolash might be hiding and Eileen’s potential spying. 

“I hope you can bring a swift end to this,” Valtr said. “Nothing I hate more than twiddling my thumbs. Shall we carry on with the formality of me giving you permission to go check in with the Cathedral Ward, or are we past that point now?”

Henryk chuckled. “Feeling a bit spirited, hm?”

Valtr leaned back in his chair. “Don’t mistake me now, I  _ am _ grateful for the Captain. I think, in due time, he will pave the way for my Confederates to become integrated into the regular security details. The process has only been hastened by his… infatuation.”

Henryk rolled his eyes. 

“I’m happy for you, you idiot,” Valtr said, eyes narrowed. “I’m just inept at voicing it.”

“I’ll say,” Henryk muttered. 

“Before you leave us officially, I’d like for you to spend a moment of your time with Yamamura,” Valtr added. “You still embody much of the principles that I’ve built this group upon, even if you have certain advantages. I’d like for him to see that.”

Henryk stood up. “Hopefully, we’ll still be able to work together even after I leave. But yeah, I’ll beat up your new recruit sometime if you want.”

Valtr smiled. “Preferably after the full moon has passed. I wouldn’t want Yamamura to get _too_ discouraged.”

“I’ll pencil it in.”

 

-

 

Henryk walked to Gascoigne’s office feeling oddly hopeful considering everything else. Sure, a mad scientist was on the loose, possibly plotting revenge, but Henryk couldn’t help but think that between him and Gascoigne, they could handle it. It wasn’t just their strength, either. Henryk simply wanted it to be okay, so he knew he’d fight even harder.

He was surprised when he got to the Cathedral Ward and found Henriett and Gascoigne in full strategizing mode.

“Oh, good,” Henriett said. “You saved me a trip.”

“What’s going on?” Henryk asked.

“You wouldn’t believe who’s asked for our help,” Gascoigne said, holding up a letter for Henryk to see. He briefly scanned it, catching the signature on the bottom.

“Byrgenwerth?” Henryk said. “That’s Micolash’s school, right?”

“The one and only,” Gascoigne said. “Seems like they’ve had some unusual beast sightings lately and wanted our help to check it out. What are the odds that it’s related to their alumni?”

“Seems too coincidental not to be,” Henryk admitted. “Maybe Micolash left something behind there and needs it back?”

“I was thinking along those lines. Let’s say we go check it out, huh?” Gascoigne smiled.

Henriett cleared her throat. “No offense, boss, but I think you should sit this one out. Kinda smells like a trap to me. Getting the Captain isolated out in the woods seems like someone’s perfect opportunity. If Henryk is fully healed and up to it, why don’t the two of us lead with some backup?”

Gascoigne sagged, leaning against the edge of his desk. “Goddamn, you’re right.”

“I know,” Henriett said, turning to Henryk. “How do you feel?”

“Let’s do it,” Henryk said. “But, might I suggest leaning into the potential trap a little?”

Henriett raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“Maybe we can pretend,” Henryk said. “Is anyone on your team as tall as Gascoigne?”

Henriett and Gascoigne shared a glance.

“No,” Gascoigne said. “But Wallar is close enough. Especially if he were to stand next to you two. Preserve the illusion.”

“Ignoring the fact that you just called us short,” Henryk said. “If we dress him up as you and give him things that have your scent, maybe it’ll be enough to fool someone who’s looking for an excuse.”

Gascoigne nodded. “Alright. I’ll talk to him. See if he’s okay with playing bait. Henryk, can you get some extra Confederates for back-up? They’ll be harder to smell and we can have them tail us from a distance so it doesn’t look like we’re marching in with an army.”

“On it,” Henryk said. 

They spent much of the daylight hours trying to figure out where the trouble might be coming from, rereading the letter from Byrgenwerth and choosing the members of their team. Henryk went back to the League to get a few non-shifters for the job and reconvened with Henriett and Gascoigne after the sun had set. When he returned, he was a little alarmed to see two Gascoigne’s standing in the office. 

 It took a second for his brain to adjust. Waller was a few inches shorter, a little less broad, and the hat he was borrowing hid his shaved head from view. Of course, the longer Henryk stood there, the more of Wallar’s scent became noticeable through Gascoigne’s coat. And the barely discernible difference between wolf and dog began to bleed through.

“How’s he look?” Gascoigne asked Henryk.

“Pretty convincing,” Henryk muttered. 

He noticed the smirk on Gascoigne’s face.

Wallar turned to Henryk, but it took a second for his head to properly align with Henryk’s. “I hate these wraps,” the man said. “I don’t envy you, boss.”

Gascoigne slapped the man on the shoulder. “Just let Henriett take the lead. Focus on her scent and she’ll make sure you don’t step where you shouldn’t.”

“Got it,” Wallar said. “H, I’m counting on you.”

Henriett smiled. “When aren’t you?”

Wallar laughed. 

Gascoigne sent Henriett and Wallar ahead but asked Henryk to stay behind for a second. “Just to go over the plan.”

When the office was empty, Gascoigne smiled at Henryk, but Henryk didn’t miss the concern apparent through his posture.

“Be careful,” Gascoigne said. 

Henryk went to him, reaching his hand up to Gascoigne’s hair, tracing his face. “I will.”

Gascoigne snagged him by the hips, pressing their faces together, not daring to kiss him, just a little contact.

“Hate not going with you,” Gascoigne muttered.

“I know,” Henryk told him. “But we can’t afford to give Micolash any advantages. That means keeping you safe.”

Gascoigne let go of Henryk and went to his desk, pulling open one of the drawers. He took an extra set of eye wraps from within and returned to Henryk. “Give me your wrist.”

Henryk did, removing his gloves and coat and rolling up his shirt sleeve for Gascoigne. The man placed the pad of his thumb against the pulse point on Henryk’s wrist. Moving his thumb a little to the side, he scratched another line into Henryk’s skin. The shift was so fast, Henryk barely noticed, only felt the sting of the claw for a second. Gascoigne quickly bound the cut with his eye wraps as some red welled up to the surface.

“Nothing like an open wound to rile up your enemies,” Gascoigne said. 

“And your friends,” Henryk added.

Gascoigne chuckled. Henryk was just glad to be able to carry something of Gascoigne’s.

 

-

 

Henriett, Wallar, another shifter named Gratia and Henryk went together in a carriage to Byrgenwerth. They were the official responders, meanwhile, a small group of Confederates followed behind in case they were needed. Gratia was an absolutely huge woman who radiated fierce energy, her wild red hair tamped down underneath a hat. Henryk could smell her shift well enough to know that she wasn’t a dog, but he couldn’t identify it beyond that. 

As they rode through the woods, the smells of civilization were overtaken by the scent of the forest. 

“Is something bleeding?” Wallar asked and Henryk startled. Wallar was doused in Gascoigne’s scent and it was still a little confusing to expect to see or hear Gascoigne and get Wallar instead. 

“Captain’s idea,” Henryk said. “Get ‘em worked up with some fresh blood.”

Wallar smiled. “He thinks of everything, huh?”

Henriett cast Henryk a look that he couldn’t decipher— not judgmental, just curious. The carriage hit a bump and everyone lurched to the side. 

“Damn, I hate the woods,” Gratia said, peeking out the window. “There’s a reason we haven’t paved these roads. Nobody likes being out here.”

“That, and the rampant beast problem,” Henriett added.

Gratia scoffed. “Yeah, miss know-it-all, that too.”

“Isn’t Byrgenwerth supposed to be safe once you’re on the grounds?” Wallar asked. 

“Yeah, they’ve got that beast-repelling incense going constantly,” Henriett said. “Which is part of why we’re thinking it’s not actually a beast problem.”

Henryk could smell it the second they were close enough. The incense was a thick scent that evoked wildfires and, to his sensitive nose, death and decay. Most people said it smelled like noxious firewood. Henryk knew, though, that it was made from the blood of beasts themselves. It was meant to send a message to living beasts that they would die if they drew too close. It was usually pretty effective.

The three shifters wrinkled their noses all at the same time shortly after. 

“Here we go,” Wallar said, trying to put the eye wraps back into place. He’d moved them so he could see once they’d gotten into the carriage, but he couldn’t see himself properly now.

“Hold on,” Henryk said, leaning forward to tug the wraps into the correct position across Wallar’s face. He’d grown so used to studying Gascoigne, he knew exactly how they should sit.  

“Thanks,” Wallar said. “Don’t know how he does it.”

“It’s that wolf nose of his,” Gratia said. 

“I always wondered if that was bullshit, but I guess I gotta hand it to him,” Wallar admitted. “This is shit, but I’ve never seen the boss tripping over himself.”

The carriage came to a stop outside of the impressive main building of Byrgenwerth Medical College. The four of them stepped outside and were greeted by a skinny young man clutching a hat to his chest. 

“Hello! You must be the officers from Yharnam,” his eyes skipped around to each of them and then settled firmly on Wallar. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

Henriett offered her hand. “I’m second in command to the Captain, Henriett. It’s nice to meet you as well. I’ll give you everyone’s full introductions once we’re inside, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh. Very good,” he said, avoiding Henriett’s hand and leading them to the front doors. “I’m Damian. Thank you for such a swift response. Perhaps there is just a weak point in our incense, but, nevertheless, we need to be vigilant. We take safety very seriously.”

Henryk breathed in deep to get a read on the area, but quickly realized the problem. This place was a medical college and it stank of chemicals even worse than Iosefka’s clinic. Gascoigne’s false scent was too alive and he had trouble sorting through everything else. Slightly annoyed, he followed after everyone. 

“We know you’ve reported sightings of intruders, but have your shifters caught any unusual scents?” Henriett asked.

Damian led them into an office stacked high with books and papers. Again, he spoke to Wallar. “Tragically, the incense does it’s job a little too well sometimes. It is harder for us to pick up on subtle smells out here.”

Henriett nodded, eyes narrowing. She went through and introduced everyone to Damian, ending with Henryk who she called their ‘Confederate liaison’. 

“We’ll investigate the edges of the college, but first, do you mind if we have a word with the man who signed off on the letter?” Henriett asked.

Damian cleared his throat. “Ah, Master Willem is quite busy you understand—”

“We do understand,” Henriett interjected. “But we are as well and yet, here we are. The least he can do is grant us five minutes of his time to answer a question or two.”

Damian blinked, attempting to regain control, gaze now torn between Henriett and Wallar. “Surely I can answer any questions you may have. I’ve been made aware of any and all details in regards to the beast sightings.”

Henryk pulled his mask off so he could speak clearly. “Are you aware that you two of your alumni are now implicated in the attempted murder of Captain Gascoigne?”

Damian opened his mouth, took a breath in, and shut his mouth again. He put his hat down on his desk. “I’ll see if Master Willem can spare a moment of his time.”

“Thank you,” Henriett said, enunciating heavily. 

Damian hurried out of the office, closing the door behind him, and Henriett gave Henryk a barely concealed smile. “Always to the point, huh?”

“Figured it was faster,” Henryk said. 

“I gotta say,” Wallar started. “Even though I can’t see for shit right now, I am picking up on a lot of weird smells.”

“Me too,” Gratia said. “Something about this place is off. And not just because of the chemicals.”

Henryk caught Henriett’s arm. “Be on guard for anything that smells similar to Iosefka’s clinic. No reason for a school to have those poisons hanging around, right?”

She nodded, gaze cutting to the window. 

Damian came back shortly after, opening the door. “It just so happens that Master Willem has a spare moment for you.” 

“Henryk and I will take this,” Henriett said to Gratia and Wallar. “You two wait here.”

Wallar had to stop himself from saluting Henriett and managed to awkwardly cross his arms instead. Gratia looked like she was holding back laughter. Henriett and Henryk hurried after Damian, ascending a massive staircase that swept through the whole room. 

“Do try to keep things quick,” Damian said. 

“Of course,” Henriett assured him. 

They reached another set of doors which Damian pushed open for them. It led to a rather large balcony overlooking the glassy lake below. The only thing out there was a great rocking chair angled toward the moon. Henryk caught the scent of the man before he saw him. A non-shifter, ghost-like in appearance and practically disappearing into the robes he wore. His large eyes were firmly set on the sky. 

Henriett and Henryk approached slowly, as if this ancient man posed any threat. 

“Hello, sir,” Henriett started. 

“Ahh, young visitors,” Willem said, not taking his eyes off the moon.

“Sir, we wanted to ask you about two people who attended this school,” Henriett said. “You  _ are _ the headmaster, yes?”

“That would be me,” he spoke slowly, mouth barely moving. 

“Do you remember a student who went by the name Micolash?” Henriett asked. “He’s a wolf.”

Willem finally tore his gaze off the moon and it landed right on Henryk. “Yes, I remember. Shame about him.”

“About what, sir?” Henriett prompted.

Willem stared at Henryk with glassy eyes, unblinking. “The half-breed he killed. Even Yharnam news gets out here sometimes. Yes, quite a shame.”

“How did you find out, if I may?” Henriett pressed. “That news wasn’t exactly made public.”

“Laurence was quite torn up over it,” Willem said, looking at Henriett. “You see, we healers don’t like to know that our knowledge has been twisted for such foul purposes. Laurence mostly blames himself, but perhaps he blames me as well. Hasn’t sent me any students since…”

“Has Micolash made contact with you since he left the school?” Henriett asked.

Willem attempted to clear his throat, but it turned into a horrid wracking cough. When it was over, he neatly dabbed the edge of his sleeve to his mouth. He pointed a bony finger at Henryk. “You, you’re one of his?”

Henryk raised an eyebrow. “Sorry?”

“One of Laurence’s, yes?” Willem clarified. “You have the same… strangeness about you.”

“I’m not a wolf, sir,” Henryk said, nervous where this conversation might lead. 

“No, I suppose not,” Willem said. “Mico… lash… yes, he did try to contact me a few years back, right after the whole incident. I wanted nothing to do with a man who cared so little for the lives of others. I turned him away. He hasn’t tried again.”

“Just one more name, then,” Henriett said. “Iosefka. Do you recall her?”

A bit of brightness briefly surfaced in Willem’s eyes and then he promptly returned to his moon-gazing. “She was lovely.”

“Was?” Henryk echoed. 

Willem gave just the slightest nod of his head. “She had no family, no people to inform. There wasn’t much we could do except bury the body and move on.”

Henryk and Henriett exchanged glances. 

“You’re saying that Iosefka died while she was a student here?” Henriett asked.

Willem nodded. “She had an illness. Part of what drove her here in the first place. It took her faster than she expected.”

“Well, that answers a lot of questions,” Henriett said, gesturing at Henryk. “Thank you.”

The two of them left the man to his quiet night and Damian shut the doors behind them. “Now, shall we carry on with the beast sightings? Yes?”

Henriett nodded. “Let’s go find out who’s causing a ruckus.”

They joined up with Wallar and Gratia again so Damian could show everyone a map of the campus grounds with the locations of the incense burners. 

“I imagine that’s where the trouble is coming from,” he said. “But, you see, if one of them is damaged then it would be far too dangerous for us scholars to investigate. We’re not skilled hunters, so it is appreciated that we could borrow your abilities for the time.”

“Sure,” Henriett said, clearly over Damian and what little good manners he’d mustered for this. “Shall we split up or stick together?” 

“I think we should stick together,” Henryk told her. “Let’s not take chances.”

“Agreed,” Gratia said. “No use weakening the group.”

“Alright, let’s start at the edge of the lake and work our way out,” Henriett rolled up the map, not even looking back at Damian. “We’ll take this for now. Is there anything you can do to get your students to come back inside?”

Damian stared at the map, hand half extended, and then seemed to realize it was a lost cause. “Ah, yes, I’ll ring the bell for them. They know that two tolls is a strict call to return to the dormitory.” 

“Great. We’ll wait for the bells and give them a bit to return before we start the patrol.” Henriett started taking her coat off. She passed the map to Gratia. “You take this. You’re better at navigation anyway.”

“Yes ma’am,” Gratia said, accepting the paper. Henriett was down to the essential layers of clothing and Damian just tilted his head to the side like a confused dog. 

“Are you not allowing your superior to take the shift?” he asked.

Henriett huffed and turned on Damian, eyes alight with annoyance. “We do things differently. Now if you’ll excuse us.”

She stormed out of the room and everyone followed after her. Gratia snickered, nudging Henriett. “Someone’s got you in a tizzy.”

Henriett smiled. “Never mind that I’m doing all the talking, he only tries to make eye contact with the man in the room who can’t even look back at him.”

“But you’re not bitter at all,” Gratia said, grinning. 

Henriett straightened her sleeves. “Of course not. That would be unladylike. I’ll lead, alright?”

Everyone gave her an extra foot of space and she quickly shifted, shedding the rest of her clothes. Gratia and Wallar collected her shirt and pants, shoving them into Gratia’s bag before they began. Henriett padded along, nose to the ground. Henryk didn’t envy her. She was probably getting overwhelmed by the sheer amount of scents on the air out here. They pressed along, regardless. Henryk and Wallar took the middle, with Gratia bringing up the rear, but Henryk was starting to regret this whole ‘fool the enemy’ thing. Every breath he took was just fake-Gascoigne mixed with Wallar and it was making him feel unsteady. 

The first incense burner was intact and they didn’t find anything suspicious, so they quickly moved on to the second one. Henryk could just barely sense something odd in the air around them. He found himself edging in front of Wallar, unable to shake the need to protect the other man. Even though he knew that it wasn’t actually Gascoigne, he couldn’t stop his brain from getting defensive with that familiar scent so near.

He tried to make it seem casual as he rested a hand on the grip of his saw cleaver.

Henriett came to a stop and dropped her head low to the ground, ears perked. 

“What is that?” Wallar asked, head turned toward the same part of the woods. 

Gratia made a displeased noise and pulled something out of her pocket which she began fitting onto her right hand. 

“I’m taking these damn wraps off,” Wallar muttered. 

“Wait,” Henryk hissed as he caught movement from the corner of his eye.

Henriett seemed to catch it too, head tracking the shadow in the distance. 

“Should we backtrack to the incense?” Gratia asked. 

Henryk drew his cleaver, stepping fully in front of Waller. “Too late for that. Besides, it’s not a beast.”

Footsteps reached them clearly now. At least one, perhaps two people on foot out there.

“Could still be students,” Wallar whispered. 

“If you’re a student of Byrgenwerth, make yourselves known immediately,” Gratia shouted, voice far too loud for Henryk’s liking.

The figures stepped closer, no change in pace, just a steady forward march. Henryk could smell it distinctly, that broken kind of shift that Arianna and Samuel possessed. No beast at all.

“I count three shifters,” Henryk said.

Wallar cursed. “I’m no good like this, lemme shift.”

“Hold,” Henryk insisted. “We need to know if they’ll go after you. If they get aggressive, then you can shift.”

When the first figure was more clearly in view, black robes nearly blending into the darkness, Gratia cleared her throat. “That’s far enough, thank you. By order of Captain Gascoigne, we’re going to need you to come with us and answer some questions.”

The hood over the figure’s head completely obscured any facial features, and yet Henryk could  _ feel _ their gaze on him and Wallar. 

The first one began to whisper and it was hard to discern over the rest of the forest and the other approaching figures, but Henryk knew what it sounded like to him. 

“Gascoigne,” it seemed to say, changing course directly for Wallar. 

Henryk braced himself. 

“Now?” Wallar asked, urgency in his voice.

The shadowy figure drew a long blade from its side before breaking into a run.

“Now,” Henryk snapped, rushing forward. 

He could hear Wallar shift but he didn’t have time to watch. The shadow was going right for Wallar, so Henryk intercepted. They crossed paths, Henryk defending while trying to get a look at the figure’s obscured face. Henriett and Wallar were drawing out the other two figures and Henryk could hear snarling on either side of him as he slashed at the shadow in front of him. 

There was a sound so similar to the hissing of snakes. They smelled like Iosefka, but not exactly the same. The memory of poison and sickness crawled over Henryk’s skin. 

“Try to keep at least one of them alive,” Gratia yelled, charging into the fray with her fists up. 

Henryk wanted to remember this, but as he grappled with the shadow his brain began to slide into that other mode. It should have been to Henryk’s disadvantage to fight an opponent bigger than him who possessed such speed, and worrying about two other enemies in the vicinity, and with allies in danger and awful scents plaguing him. And yet, Henryk had Gascoigne’s scent still fresh around him, and his own blood was welling up on his wrist as he fought, the motions ripping the cut back open. It set something off in his mind. Blood. Gascoigne. Danger. The previously dark forest was lighting up around Henryk as he moved, his eyesight shifting without thought. Even though he knew Gascoigne wasn’t even here, a loud voice was urging him to fight as hard as he could. 

_ Protect.  _

It wasn’t much of a fight. Henryk took care of his foe quickly, not realizing until after the shadow fell lifelessly to the ground that his left hand had partially shifted during the fight. His claws had punctured the ends of his gloves. Shaking it off, he wheeled around to help Wallar as quickly as he could. The brown speckled dog had his jaws clamped around the shoulder of the other shadow. It seemed to be going in Wallar’s favor, but the shadow reeled back and something shot forth from its cloak. A sharp yelp cut through the air as Henryk closed the distance between them. Wallar had done enough damage and Henryk was able to finish the shadow off quickly, but Wallar hung back, hind leg held above the ground. He was whining. Henryk looked over to see Henriett and Gratia were headed over, their own foe just a pool of robes on the ground.

“Relax,” Henryk said to Wallar, kneeling by the dog’s back leg. He parted some of the fur on Wallar’s thigh, recognizing a snake bite in his skin. A deep breath confirmed the presence of poison. Henryk looked the dog in the eyes. “You’ll be okay. Just stay shifted for now, alright? You’ll heal it faster.”

Wallar’s ears flattened and he let out a whimper. 

“What’s going on here?” Gratia asked. 

“Wallar’s probably been poisoned. He might have a rough day at home tomorrow, but he’ll be okay. One bite shouldn’t be enough to do any lasting damage.”

“Was it the weapon?” Gratia asked.

Henryk shook his head, rising to his feet again. “Those were corrupted shifters. Part snake. Seems like their bite is poisonous. I’ve dealt with one of them before.”

Gratia frowned. “Damn. Stay close, Wally. H, maybe you should shift back now?”

Henriett pushed her snout against Gratia’s bag and gave a quiet bark. Gratia chuckled and started removing Henriett’s clothes and shoes. “Ah, I guess you don’t want to run around in the nude. Not sure  _ why _ .”

She held out the clothes and Henriett shifted behind Gratia’s massive frame, quickly changing out of sight. “What the hell were those? Corrupted shifters, is that what you said?”

“Yeah,” Henryk said. “I think maybe Iosefka was a better version of these. Able to shift seamlessly.”

Henriett stepped out, tugging on her shoes. “We can pretty much confirm that Micolash is up to something, right?”

Henryk glanced down at Wallar, who was unable to stop himself from reaching toward the wound. “Don’t lick it,” Henryk warned.

Wallar huffed. 

“Anyway, yes,” Henryk told her. “I think that’s pretty fucking solid evidence.”

Henriett glanced around them. “Too bad we couldn’t get them to say anything… did you see that they started breaking down? It’s like their bodies can’t hold together. Do you think Micolash will send more?”

“Tough to say,” Henryk said. “Wouldn’t hurt to boost security out here, though. Maybe get some shifters and Confederates on patrol to stay on the safe side.”

Henriett nodded. “Definitely. But what do you think they were looking for?”

“How about you three get Wallar to safety and I’ll do a bit more snooping to see if I can’t figure it out?” Henryk asked.

“Do you want backup?” Gratia asked, but Henriett just put her hand on Gratia’s arm. 

“Henryk prefers not to divulge his methods. Let’s get Wally back home. Henryk’s Confederates are still out here if he needs them.”

Gratia nodded. “Alright. Come on, pup. We’ll check in with Damian and then get you out of here.”

“Tell them to stay inside for another hour,” Henryk said. “For clean up.”

Henriett gave a salute and the three of them headed out. Henryk took a minute to find a massive tree with gnarled roots to hide his clothes under before shifting. He returned to the remains of the shadows, sniffing for anything useful. The bodies were decaying rapidly, as if death had begun to undo the stitches that held them together. They certainly smelled more artificial than natural to him. Echoes of Iosefka’s chemicals clung to their robes and weapons. Henryk pushed aside the fabric to get a look at the bodies, but all that remained were chunks of rotting flesh. He abandoned them and set off toward the college. 

He skirted around the main building as he picked up on something. It was a bit like shifter, a bit like animal, a bit like something else entirely. As he followed the barely-there scent, it pulled him closer and closer to the lake. Eventually, he found himself perched on the railing that separated a courtyard from the lake, unable to get any closer to the source without plunging into the waters. He wondered if something had fallen beneath the surface, but all he could see was the reflection of the moon staring back at him. 

As he watched, he heard soft humming emanating from the balcony where Willem had been moon gazing. Henryk decided to pay him another visit, easily finding footing along the building’s distinct architecture. As he padded over to Willem’s rocking chair, the humming stopped.

“Ahh,” Willem sighed. “Yes, you are one of them, aren’t you?”

Henryk leapt onto the arm of the chair.

“Here I thought the gods had gone deaf to us long ago,” Willem muttered, lips hardly sounding out the words. “I suppose… I am simply not worthy of her blessing.”

Henryk studied the man’s aged face. 

“You seek what he sought,” Willem said. “Micolash will certainly never find her. He could not be less worthy, even I know that.”

The man began to cough again, turning his face away from the cat. It lasted a while, but Willem eventually regained his composure.

“Perhaps I have been blessed in other ways,” Willem went on, meeting Henryk’s gaze at last. “To be a protector, yes. I will continue to watch over her. Do not worry. I will keep her secret… and yours.”

Henryk left Willem, not sure how much of his words were truth or long mangled fantasy, but he figured the man was only half awake. Henryk went to the edge of the balcony, looking back down at the water. The longer he stared at the white reflection of the moon, the more it began to burn his gaze, as if he were actually looking into the sun. It skewed his vision.

“She’ll be here for you when you’re ready,” Willem said.

Henryk felt a shiver wrack his body. The chill followed him all the way back to the city.

 

-

 

“This is getting weirder and weirder,” Henriett said once they had all met up again. “Do you think we could use the robes to track their scents?” 

Gascoigne picked at one of the sleeves. “Maybe. At the very least, we might be able to weed out any other of his scouts in the area. You did good today, all of you.”

Gratia had already escorted Wallar home and the Confederates had gone their way after having helped Henryk bring everything back here. 

“I’ll put together a proper detail to keep the college safe while we figure the rest of this out. Henriett, you’re free to go get some rest. Henryk looks like he wants to say something a little quietly.”

Henryk had to fight off a smile. He  _ had _ been itching to tell Gascoigne about Willem. 

Henriett smirked. “Sure, boss. Goodnight, both of you.”

She left, and Gascoigne turned to face Henryk, leaning against his desk. “You’re alright?”

Henryk nodded. “I promise.”

“Good.” Gascoigne frowned. “I’m worried Micolash is the one who’s getting impatient. He’s bound to get frustrated the more of his toys we break.”

“There’s obviously something at the college that Mioclash wants,” Henryk said. “And Willem fancies himself some kind of guardian, but that man is a little off. I can’t gauge exactly how much of what he said is real. But he knows about whatever I am. Maybe that’s something Micolash and he bonded over back in the day.”

Gascoigne scratched at his jaw. “I wouldn’t be surprised to think Micolash might merely be flexing to scare Willem a little. Keep him quiet, you know? It’s not like there were attacks before we showed up.”

“And the shifters we fought definitely responded to your name,” Henryk said. “The mere mention of you seemed to set them off. Henriett was right about that. Micolash really wants to bait you out.”

Gascoigne took a breath. “What’s he going to do when subtly stops working?”

Henryk walked up to him, placing his wrist in Gascoigne’s hand. Gascoigne’s fingers gently closed around him. “He’ll fail. Someone like him won’t do well on the offensive. That’s where we come in.” 

Gascoigne’s smile was reward enough. Henryk leaned up on his toes and Gascoigne met him for a quick kiss. 

“This’ll only make me want more,” Gascoigne cautioned, voice quiet. 

“Stay focused,” Henryk teased, straightening the man’s shirt. “We can’t afford distractions.”

Gascoigne lifted his other hand to Henryk’s face. “Then stop being so damn distracting.”

“That sounds like a personal problem,” Henryk breathed, ready to steal another kiss when they both heard footsteps outside Gascoigne’s door. 

They jumped apart, Henryk reaching to adjust his mask. 

“I should go,” Henryk muttered, pulse still high. 

Gascoigne nodded just as someone began knocking on the door. “I’ll see you later?”

There was no other answer but, “yeah.” 

 

-

 

Henryk found a note from Eileen on his doorstep. 

_ Mission approved. I’ll report back soon. Be safe, love. _

There were a couple of aconite pills in the envelope. Henryk stowed them away and got rid of the letter. He bathed for a good long time, desperate to be rid of the scent of beast incense. He thought about shifting and just going right to Gascoigne’s, when he heard knocking on his front door. 

Ludwig _. _

Henryk dressed quickly and went to greet the man. It was not Ludwig himself, but an attendant sent to schedule an appointment at Henryk’s earliest convenience to  _ discuss a personal matter _ . They set a time for the next day at noon at the Commander’s offices in the Upper Ward. A carriage would pick him up at the League to escort him to the Upper Ward. Henryk shut the door with a relieved sigh knowing that no one was going to go snooping through his house. 

Still, the whole process unnerved him. 

He retreated to Gascoigne’s shortly after and found the man stretched out on his couch, eyes shut but still awake, the fire crackling softly. Henryk hopped onto his chest, shifting to lean over him. 

“You okay?” Henryk asked.

Gascoigne pulled Henryk to him, smiling. “Ah, just what I was missing.”

“You looked peaceful,” Henryk said. 

“A ruse,” Gascoigne told him. “My thoughts are going a mile a minute.”

“Sorry to hear,” Henryk said and kissed his neck. “I’m exhausted. Fought hard tonight.”

“I heard,” Gascoigne whispered, scratching pleasantly down Henryk’s back. “Wallar and Gratia were impressed.”

Henryk closed his eyes, fatigue setting in. “It’s easy to fight for you. Even if you’re not there.” 

“Rest,” Gascoigne told him. “We’re safe tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (the camera pans out to me holding a big check list of names from Bloodborne. I nod to myself as I cross several of them off. the camera cuts away before you can see the next uncrossed name.)  
> TO BE CONTINUED
> 
> also HI, if you want to flail in my direction: @oodleswrites


	17. Chapter 17

Henryk had been so tired from the mission, he’d only managed a little conversation before passing out. When he woke the next morning, Gascoigne was glued to him, dead asleep. Henryk had a brief moment of anxiety because they’d hardly done anything the previous night, wondering if Gascoigne would be annoyed. As he studied the sleeping shifter, Gascoigne shuffled in closer to him. 

What was the thing inside of him that compelled Henryk to touch Gascoigne? Just a hand on the shifter’s cheek was enough, but Henryk marveled at this constant desire for connection. Was it a shifter thing, the moon, or just them?

Henryk couldn’t stop himself from pushing his hand through Gascoigne’s hair. The man sighed, showing a little teeth as he smiled.

“You good?” Gascoigne asked.

“Yeah,” Henryk said. “You?”

Gascoigne nodded. “‘Course.”

That was it, a simple reassurance and the nerves left him. Henryk pressed in closer. “Should I be worried about Ludwig today?”

“Not sure,” Gascoigne admitted. “He probably assumes I’m with someone, so he’ll try to get proof outta you.”

“He’s not going to figure it out just by looking at me? Smelling me?” 

Gascoigne smirked, pushing into Henryk and kissing his neck. “Your nose is better than his, so if you can’t smell me, then he won’t be able to either. Maybe just take a trip home before you see him.”

Henryk nodded, arms winding around Gascoigne’s back. “Speaking of my nose… don’t make me work with someone else wearing your clothes again. Nothing more disappointing than catching your scent on a different guy.”

Gascoigne chuckled. “Won’t happen again. I promise, from now on, you won’t catch me on anyone else. How’s that?”

“Not bad,” Henryk said, drawing him in. 

Gascoigne’s head tilted. “That’s it? How do I turn ‘not bad’ into ‘good’?”

Henryk shrugged, smiling. “Only time will tell.”

“Fuck that. Tell me what you want,” Gascoigne said. 

Henryk admired the light in Gascoigne’s eyes. “How late do you want to be to work this morning?”

“I do as my god commands me,” Gascoigne said, feigning some reverent voice. “I can’t be punished for… divine intervention.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Henryk asked. 

“Shhh,” Gascoigne said, biting at Henryk’s ear. “I’m trying to pray.”

 

-

 

Henryk made sure that when he dressed for the day, he took clothes that he hadn’t worn in a while to get the least interesting scent possible. He even showered again in his own house just to be safe. Valtr raised his brows when he saw Henryk walk by his office in an outdated version of the Confederate’s coat.

“Are you hiding from someone?” Valtr asked him. 

Henryk entered Valtr’s office and shut the door behind him. “What do you think Ludwig and the higher-ups would do if they found out that their precious prince was running around with some freak shifter guy?”

Valtr blinked once and then leaned back in his chair. “I have no idea, Henryk. My chief concern would be that Laurence has already lost one prodigal son. He doesn’t want to lose another.”

“I’m not trying to get him to leave,” Henryk said, arms crossed. “I think he’s doing good for the city, you know? If anything, I’m just another reason for him to stay.”

Valtr nodded. “True, however, thinking about it from their perspective, they must ask whether or not they believe the people of Yharnam won’t like what ‘the prince’ is getting up to. Laurence does care so deeply about public opinion.”

“We can be quiet about it,” Henryk muttered. “If people think he’s a spinster, it’s not that big of a deal, right?”

Valtr gave Henryk a stern look. “As much as I appreciate this utterly hypothetical debate that has nothing to do with reality, I do have some work to get to. I don’t have the time to play babysitter to your pre-moon mania.”

Henryk stopped himself from rolling his eyes in response. “I’m fine, I don’t have pre-moon problems.”

Valtr said nothing, just quirked one brow and turned his attention to his desk. 

Henryk eyed him. “You’ll be glad not to have to deal with me once I’m out of here, huh?”

Valtr lifted his gaze to Henryk once again. “I am, at the very least, immensely curious to see what will happen.”

“What if they banish me from the city?” Henryk asked. “Do we do that anymore?”

Valtr chuckled. “I don’t believe so. Something tells me you’ll make this work to your favor. Now, please, you’re making me anxious with your foot tapping.”

Henryk hadn’t realized he was even doing it, and stilled his restless leg. “Sorry. Leaving.”

He slipped out of the office once again and thought to drop in on any training that might be going on, but realized that despite his best efforts, he  _ was _ going a little moon crazy. It was heightening his anxiety about this meeting and if he attempted to fight anyone now he might go too far. He was almost grateful when Ludwig’s attendant came for him. It was going to be a weight off his shoulders to be done with this. 

As a carriage took him through the bulk of Yharnam to get to the Upper Ward, Henryk had a brief moment of paranoia as he wondered if this was some kind of elaborate trap. Maybe they already knew that Henryk and Gascoigne were together and this was no meeting at all. Maybe they were just delivering Henryk straight to some secret prison where he was never to see the light of day again. Maybe they wanted to experiment on him like Iosefka did. Maybe Gascoigne was in on it.

Henryk sighed. Definitely moon problems. 

The carriage bounced a little as they crossed a bridge to get to the highest house in the Upper Ward, the only place Henryk knew of. It wasn’t just where Ludwig kept his offices, but also where Laurence himself conducted any official meetings. Henryk turned to the window, wondering if Gascoigne had spent much time here before he joined up with the frontier. Henryk wasn’t clear on the layout of this neighborhood and how everyone lived or worked. He always imagined every wolf was just given a mansion and that was that. 

It was beautiful, that much Henryk couldn’t deny. The pinnacle of Yharnam opulence in its design. When they came to a stop and a young man opened Henryk’s door for him, he stepped out into crisp cool air. 

“Right this way, sir,” the man said, beckoning for Henryk. 

Henryk swallowed a laugh. He couldn’t remember a time someone called  _ him _ sir. They walked toward a lush looking courtyard, only to take a hard left toward a staircase winding up the side of the building. Henryk was led through an ornate hallway with windows showing through to the large entrance hall on the other side. A chandelier probably worth more than Henryk’s entire house glittered with lights. Henryk and his guide skirted around the main part of the building, coming to a impressive office situated in the back with a breathtaking view of the city. And there, finally, Henryk came face to face with Commander Ludwig. 

“Ah, Confederate Henryk,” Ludwig said, rising to his feet. “I’ve heard much about you.”

Henryk dropped into a bow, unsure if this was protocol, but it felt like the right thing to do. When he straightened, Ludwig had come around his desk and extended a hand to him. God, the man was unnervingly put together, regal in his crisp uniform, not a single grey streaked hair out of place, exuding complete control. 

“I hope you’ve heard decent things,” Henryk managed, taking the man’s hand.

Ludwig’s grip was nearly crushing. “Very. Please, take a seat.”

Henryk followed him to his desk, sinking into one of the chairs, feeling a bit like the headmaster was about to give him a stern talking to about his demeanour in class. Ludwig returned to his own seat behind the desk. 

“I do hope my attendant made it clear that you’re not in any sort of trouble,” Ludwig started.

“Yeah, he mentioned a personal matter,” Henryk said. 

Ludwig nodded, gaze sliding to his empty desk. “I want you to understand that I am merely attempting to make sense of a… puzzle. You have no obligation to be here or to answer these questions, but I believe it will be in everyone’s best interest if you work with me.”

“Understood, sir,” Henryk said, wishing he had something to squeeze or tear up to ease the tension in his body. “I’ll see what I can do for you.”

Ludwig folded his hands neatly onto the desk. “I understand that you’ve lived in Yharnam for almost ten years now, is that correct?”

“Yes, sir,” Henryk answered. 

“So you’re familiar with the city and its people,” Ludwig went on.

“Well, sort of,” Henryk said. “I’m pretty comfortable here, but I can’t exactly say I know the people very well. I’m not much of a socialite, you see. Not many friends.”

“Hm,” Ludwig considered this. “But among those few friends, you count Captain Gascoigne to be one of them?”

Henryk tried to look at least a little uncertain as he offered a nod. “Yes, I’d say so. As much as either of us have time for it.”

Ludwig made a soft noise, almost like laughter. Perhaps on someone less terrifying, it might seem friendly. “I debated running these questions past any of his staff, but I believe he commands a rather deep sense of loyalty. I don’t think the members of his personal unit would give me helpful answers. The remainder of his peers are still on the frontier and I doubt they’d be able to help with this. You seem to be the only person who might have any insight into the man’s thoughts who is not under his direct employ.”

Henryk smiled. “You might be giving me more credit than I deserve.”

Ludwig opened his hands, palms up. “I’m willing to spend the time to find out.”

A breath in and Henryk could smell the other man’s shift. A horse, strong, quiet and patient. Some shifts were less bothered by the moon just by nature, like birds, but other shifters worked hard to develop ways to deal with the extra energy. Ludwig was as calm as a non-shifter, an impressive feat when they were so close to the full moon. Henryk, on the other hand, felt like a toddler on a sugar-high. 

“Are you aware of Gascoigne’s childhood spent outside of Yharnam?” Ludwig asked.

Henryk shrugged. “He’s spoken briefly about it. I know his dad is a piece of work. And I know he’s not from here. That’s part of why we started talking in the first place. We’re both outsiders.” 

“Ah, yes,” Ludwig said, clearly already aware of this. “You didn’t know each other at all before he came here to assume the role of Captain, correct?”

“Yeah,” Henryk said. “Truthfully, I didn’t much like him before we got to talking.”

“But you’ve come around to him?” Ludwig asked. 

Henryk was obnoxiously warm sitting in this office. “Uh, yeah. He’s decided to trust me so, I guess I’ve returned the favor.”

Ludwig shifted in his seat in order to cross his legs. “Shifters are always unique creatures. No two dogs are exactly the same, just as no two humans are exactly the same. That being said, wolves are wolves for a reason. It isn’t random. Carrying the potential for a shift is inextricably tied to who you are as a person. Every wolf is, at heart, strong. Someone who is incredibly hard to sway, and someone is often at the whim of their emotions and beliefs. Wolves prefer company over isolation. They forge their own paths, but they can’t do it alone.”

Despite himself, Henryk listened intently. No one spoke about shifts like this, as if the animal were influenced by the human, or maybe vice versa.   

“It’s part of why we arrange unions for the wolves that we raise,” Ludwig said, getting to the point. “Wolves left on their own more often develop the sickness. It is a tragic statistic that we cannot ignore. With this in mind, we’ve taken steps in order to make Gascoigne’s transition to civilian life easier on him. He’s been  _ resistant _ to some of these efforts. Perhaps he has spoken to you about some of this?”

Henryk swallowed. “Something about a girl, yeah.”

Ludwig studied his desk once again. “We don’t like to pair wolves up with other wolves. Two headstrong individuals like that almost never make lasting unions. We took a lot of time to find a good partner for Gascoigne. We really do believe he’d mesh well with Viola, but he continues to avoid her. It makes me wonder if something happened to him while he was on the frontier. Knowing him, he won’t want to admit anything to me that may appear as a weakness.”

“No offense, sir, but neither would I,” Henryk said. 

Ludwig’s gaze cut to Henryk and he seemed to be taking pains to relax his stance. “Am I so inhospitable?” His voice betrayed his exhaustion.

Henryk could have laughed if this wasn’t so strange. “The way he talks about you, sir, it feels like maybe you’re…” He cleared his throat, the awkwardness threatening to stick his tongue in place. “What happened with his own father, and with you taking him in… I think he really doesn’t want to disappoint you.”

Ludwig tilted his head in thought. “And yet, he won’t voice his concerns with me.”

“Like you said about weakness,” Henryk said, wondering if this was the right thing to say. “Maybe he’s having a hard time admitting that something’s wrong, because he doesn’t want you to judge him.”

“But he hasn’t said anything specific to you?” Ludwig pressed. 

Henryk sighed. “He’s making light of the situation, but it’s obvious he doesn’t want to go through with it.”

Ludwig looked off to the left, taking a breath. “Gascoigne isn’t a dishonest man. I would never call him that. I suppose it feels like he trusts me less than he used to. He struggles to tell me the truth, and instead of lying to me, he simply avoids the answers entirely. It’s frustrating. We’ve had trouble in the past with wolves refusing to heed our word. The sickness isn’t even the worst of what we’ve had to deal with.”

The far off look in Ludwig’s eyes struck Henryk. Obviously he was thinking about Micolash. … _ at the whim of their emotions and beliefs _ . The more Henryk listened to Ludwig, the more fatherly the man sounded, though he fought that appearance with dignified precision. As much as Henryk didn’t want it to sway him, he felt a little bad for this shifter concerned for his ward. One son gone off the deep end, another on the brink of shutting him out.

Henryk debated his next words. “Gascoigne refuses to tell me how serious any of this is. I think he doesn’t want me to worry. He always tries to keep things light, you know?”

“Yes,” Ludwig agreed wearily. “That habit I am familiar with. Still, he will be serious when he has to be.”

Henryk clasped his hands together in his lap. “I’ve wondered, though, how much is really at stake here. Sometimes it feels like he’s walking around with all of Yharnam on his shoulders.”

Ludwig refocused on Henryk, the intensity of his gaze more manageable now. “Perhaps I have taken the wrong angle with him. He was always drawn to ideals of justice and fighting the good fight. I had hoped that by stressing his role here, it would make things more black and white and therefore, he’d find it easier to share his troubles, but I think I have only created more guilt where I had hoped to resolve it.”

Henryk started to smile. “If I’ve learned anything about Gascoigne it’s that he’s incredibly intelligent about everything except himself. He’s his own blindspot. Maybe he’s having a hard time right now because he’s trying to give too many people what they want.” 

They both went quiet for a moment, and Henryk felt like the silence might crush him. He didn’t like to think that Gascoigne was only with him because it was what  _ Henryk _ wanted. It didn’t feel true, but Henryk found himself wondering, again, if Gascoigne’s life would be easier without Henryk in it. Something sharp twisted through Henryk’s stomach.

“I understand what you’re saying,” Ludwig said. “And I thank you for coming to speak with me. I do think this will help me diagnose the problem. I’ll have them return you to your work if you would like.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Henryk said, too quiet for his own liking. 

They had a very soft-spoken goodbye and then Henryk was on his way back to the League, anxious waters rising around him. 

 

-

 

There was a rock in Henryk’s stomach for the rest of the day. It didn’t go away until he was back in Gascoigne’s house, sitting on the shifter’s counter and watching him pour two drinks out. 

“How’d it go?” Gascoigne asked.

It was instantly comforting to be in Gascoigne’s presence. Henryk had begun to trust that Gascoigne was easy to read. Henryk would know immediately if something was wrong. “I didn’t realize how much Ludwig cares about you.”

Gascoigne scoffed. “That’s saying a lot.”

“I’m serious,” Henryk said. “He’s kind of your guardian, yeah?”

“Sure,” Gascoigne said. “Sort of.”

“I’m not saying he’s good at it,” Henryk stressed. “But you two are definitely more father and son than I’ve ever experienced with someone. He’s certainly better than your biological father.”

Gascoigne looked like he was begrudgingly accepting this. He gave Henryk a glass. “Alright, alright. So, what did he say?”

“He’s worried. Gave me this whole speech about how wolves are in danger of going bad when they’re left alone,” Henryk said. “It kind of sounds like he just doesn’t want you to do what Micolash did and he’s doing a shit job of trying to prevent that.”

Gascoigne laughed before taking a sip of his concoction. “Yeah he’s never really been a people person.”

Henryk smiled. “But you are. Kinda funny that you spend so much time with a guy like me.”

Gascoigne sidled up to where Henryk was perched and slipped an arm around his back. “What’s that mean?”

Henryk took a drink himself before shrugging and hooking his legs around Gascoigne’s sides. “I’m someone who finds it hard to mingle. Better at one-on-one. Sometimes I feel guilty for keeping you all to myself like this.”

Gascoigne smiled and leaned in closer. “I like the one-on-one just fine.”

“Yeah?” Henryk asked. “You don’t think you’d do better with someone more sociable?”

“Think of it this way,” Gascoigne said. “A guy like you is someone I’ll never have to worry about. You don’t need the world at your fingers. You just need a good book and someone to remind you to eat. I can do that.”

Henryk found himself laughing. He set his drink down and pushed his hands through Gascoigne’s hair. “You wouldn’t trade me for a pretty high society boy? Maybe a bird? Someone more regal.”

“I wouldn’t trade you for anyone,” Gascoigne said before kissing Henryk. 

Maybe Henryk was feeling anxious, but it was exactly what he needed to hear. The words and the fierceness of the kiss made him weak. That first step over the line was all it took for Henryk’s priorities to change. The drinks were soon abandoned to that ratcheting need to touch each other. Gascoigne had Henryk half-naked on the kitchen counter before either of them thought to go back to the bedroom. Henryk was moving around, trying to give Gascoigne more room so the shifter could get his hand down the front of Henryk’s pants, when he nearly knocked over one of their glasses. 

“Bed?” Henryk asked, breathy.

“Right,” Gascoigne said, picking Henryk up off the counter. 

Henryk enjoyed being carried like it was nothing for Gascoigne. They were both clinging to each other tighter than they had to and the room felt charged as Gascoigne set Henryk down on the bed and nearly ripped the rest of his clothes off. The cusp of the full moon made everything a little more desperate, but as Henryk found himself willingly giving in to the madness— Gascoigne barely had to breathe on him to get him hard—  he could feel Gascoigne holding back, just like last time. Always with a step back after they started; Gascoigne was still scared of what the wolf might do. Henryk wanted to encourage him, wanted everything he could get out of Gascoigne. As he fought with Gascoigne’s belt, the shifter grabbed Henryk by the back of his neck, laughing at Henryk’s impatient fumbling. Henryk had already shut down his own restraint for the evening and wound up pushing Gascoigne’s back to the mattress with strength that surprised them both. Naked, Henryk straddled Gascoigne’s bare chest, sliding his hands back through the shifter’s white hair, head tilted to the side as he searched Gascoigne’s eyes for that familiar spark of insanity. 

“Damn,” Gascoigne said in a breath, hands snaking up Henryk’s legs. “Look at you.”

Henryk leaned a little closer to him. He gently traced one finger over Gascoigne’s throat and spoke quietly. “Touch me.”

Gascoigne opened his mouth as he wrapped his hand around Henryk’s cock, panting just at the contact. Henryk held Gascoigne’s gaze, his blood rushing in response. His own grip on Gascoigne’s neck and hair tightened as the shifter started to work Henryk against his own chest. All Henryk wanted was to see his own desperation mirrored in Gascoigne’s gaze, to know he wasn’t the only one being steadily taken apart by this desire. But as Gascoigne’s motions became more insistent, Henryk started rolling his hips with it, his mind fogging up as he started thinking about the last time they fucked before the full moon, how good it had been when Gascoigne still thought Henryk was a non-shifter. This could be different, this could better. This could be more. 

Just as Henryk closed his eyes, almost ready to completely turn his brain off, he felt Gascoigne grab him by the jaw with his free hand.

“Eyes on me,” Gascoigne demanded. 

Henryk struggled not to immediately shut his eyes in response to Gascoigne’s sudden feverish grip on him. A swell of heat took Henryk by surprise. He couldn’t turn his face, didn’t want to, but, “ _ fuck _ ,” just like that, he was completely at the other man’s mercy. 

“You want to come on my chest,” Gascoigne said, smirking at Henryk. “Least you can do is stay focused.”

Henryk wanted nothing more than to snarl at him for the tease, but another wave of pleasure rolled through him and all he could do was force his eyes open as he moaned through it. He buried both his hands back in Gascoigne’s hair, not caring about how hard he was grasping, concentrating on Gascoigne’s fingers around him, the feel of Gascoigne’s muscles underneath Henryk’s thighs. So what if Henryk was digging his nails into Gascoigne’s head? He could deal with it for being such a smarmy—

“Oh god.” Legs shaking, body tight. Once it hit him, Henryk didn’t care, just threw his head back as he came, spots dancing over his vision.

“No warning?” Gascoigne rose up from the mattress, gripping Henryk’s waist with a wicked smile. “Asshole.”

Henryk laughed, no less peaked by his touch then he was when they began. “What are you going to do about it?”

Gascoigne kissed Henryk’s neck, hand edging down his spine. “Just have to tire you out a little more.”

“I’m waiting,  _ Captain _ ,” Henryk said, picking his hips up just enough for Gascoigne to get at him. “You gonna fuck me, or just fuck me over?”

Gascoigne growled and goosebumps rippled up Henryk’s arms. The shifter flipped Henryk onto the bed so fast it made his head spin. They sank together,  _ how they meshed so well,  _ Henryk scratching at Gascoigne’s back, at once grappling for purchase, but also hoping to set him off. Something was still pulling Gascoigne back to gentle, preventing him from really letting go. The deeper they fell, Henryk found it harder to focus or make any sense of how to get what he wanted. What  _ did _ he want? 

It was something like hypnosis, feeling Gascoigne move in him. The longer it went on, the less Henryk cared about anything else. He was losing his mind, driven senseless by the slide of their bodies, but it wasn’t enough to bring the satisfaction he craved. He wanted more, he wanted it hard, wanted nothing held back. Didn’t Gascoigne remember? They were equals now. But Henryk couldn’t get the words out, couldn’t remember how to speak at all. Things grew less clear every damn time their hips connected, Henryk gasping in staccato as Gascoigne bared his teeth. That endless feeling crept back into his muscles, like the outcome didn’t matter, it was just about the motions and going insane together. They needed something else. Henryk could show him.

The feeling of the shift was heightened by everything else. He kept it to one hand, the left, which was gripping Gascoigne’s hip so tightly. Sinking his claws into Gascoigne’s flesh was absolutely divine, the feeling opening up through every part of him. The shocked growl Gascoigne gave was better than Henryk expected. Nothing felt so pure, though, as the sensation of elongated teeth piercing his skin, and his own blood rushing to meet Gascoigne’s lips. Henryk yelped as the wolf bit down into his shoulder, another orgasm carelessly torn from him. 

Henryk had no sense of how much time had passed from when they’d begun, but he was acutely aware of the exact moment that Gascoigne shuddered as he came inside Henryk, teeth still lodged in Henryk’s skin. Henryk had shifted his hand back to human and his fingers were slick with blood. The shifter gave this soft noise, almost a whine, and started to lick Henryk’s torn up shoulder, hands going gentle on Henryk’s body. 

He heard the other man whisper, “sorry.”

Henryk turned to Gascoigne and shook his head. “I’m not.”

Gascoigne sat up, and Henryk saw his own blood smeared on the man’s mouth. He touched Gascoigne’s chest with his clean hand, tracing up Gascoigne’s neck and to the red across his chin.

“You’re incredible,” Gascoigne said. 

Henryk just stared up at him, awe struck, and more than a little hazy from the blood loss. This wasn’t the moon though, this raw feeling. No one else could do this for him. He didn’t want anyone else to even try. 

“C’mere,” Gascoigne said, taking Henryk’s hand. “Let me clean you up.”

He took Henryk to the bathroom and started the shower, getting in with him. Henryk just set his head on Gascoigne’s shoulder and let the other man wash the blood from their bodies. Henryk didn’t complain at the sting of antiseptic that came after, or the bandage that Gascoigne put over him. This was all part of it and it felt good in its own way— to be handled so carefully after all that came before. 

Gascoigne returned him to bed and Henryk curled up beside him, head on his chest, their legs laced, craving the warmth of him. Even now, worn out and thin from it, Henryk felt fresh desire bubbling up inside him. 

“Listen,” Gascoigne started, running his fingers down Henryk’s back. “Don’t get me wrong, tonight was good, but you should probably stay away from me tomorrow. Don’t know if I’d let you leave if you showed up here so close to the full.”

Henryk kissed Gascoigne’s chest. “Doesn’t sound so bad.”

Gascoigne took a breath, laughing lightly. “If it were just a night I might not be so concerned. I’m worried I won’t let you leave for the entire full moon cycle.”

Three days, minimum. Henryk considered this. 

“Do you really think if I asked you to leave, you wouldn’t let me?” Henryk looked up at him. 

“It’s not that I think I’d try to stop you, it’s just…” Gascoigne sighed. “Two shifters sharing a space while the moon is full can be tricky. I can’t take aconite, so I’m already at a disadvantage. Sometimes you feed into each other’s lack of logic. You don’t even realize you’re doing it because the animal brain is too loud. Bad ideas start to sound good and suddenly three days have passed and you didn’t even realize you  _ could _ leave.”

Henryk laughed. “This happen to you?”

Gascoigne rolled his eyes. “The Upper Ward on a full moon is a chaotic place. They keep us separated for a reason. You hear about it with sibling shifters who are too young for strong aconite doses too. They’ll fight sometimes, tear up the house if you’re not careful.”

“You don’t think we’d fight, do you?” Henryk asked.

“No,” Gascoigne said, gently touching the bandage on Henryk’s shoulder. “But I can envision other problems.”

Henryk closed his eyes again, wondering what it would be like. Trapped with the wolf for three days. No restraint. Bad ideas sounding good. 

Maybe it was just the moon, but it sort of sent a thrill down Henryk’s spine. 

“Even now,” Gascoigne said, hand curling around Henryk’s hip. “I don’t want to see you go… but I still have enough sense to know you should.”

Sense. Henryk should be sensible. More than anything, he should respect Gascoigne’s request. 

“Should I leave tonight to be safe?” Henryk asked.

Gascoigne sighed. “Probably. Damn.”

They were still for a while longer, coming to terms with the impending separation. 

“Three days,” Henryk said.

“At least,” Gascoigne muttered. 

“Are you going to be okay?” Henryk asked, sitting up. “You said sometimes it gets bad. What if you’re having a hard time?”

Gascoigne gave him a warm look. “I’ll be okay. The wolf doesn’t give me as much trouble these days.”

Henryk nodded, absently touching Gascoigne’s chest. He didn’t want to go. It felt wrong, like pulling away from a magnetic force. Inch by inch, he pushed away from Gascoigne. It was cold, stiff, uncomfortable. Three whole days. It felt like he was putting on clothes two sizes too small. Henryk grit his teeth and rolled his shoulders. 

“I hate this already.”

Gascoigne laughed. “Sorry, but if I touch you I might change my mind.”

Henryk just focused on his breathing as got out of the bed. Gascoigne stayed down, but Henryk could feel him watching. There was an insistent voice telling him just to go back, just one more kiss, just five more minutes, but Henryk knew it wouldn’t be  _ just _ any of that if he gave in now.

He kept his back to Gascoigne. “I’ll see you when it’s over.”

“Yeah,” Gascoigne said. “Stay out of trouble.”

Henryk pulled the bandage off, set it down on the bedside table and shifted before he thought better of it. Something felt clumsy about his body as he sprinted home, like he wasn’t quite used to it, but he wrote it off as whatever the moon was doing to him. When he got back to his own house, he could already feel the walls closing in around him. This was going to be miserable. 

Getting into bed, he felt like he had a fever, but at least being physically apart from Gascoigne meant that he could get some sleep. Even if his bed had somehow transformed into a horrible uncomfortable thing in his absence. Even if trying to sleep felt like trying to walk on hot coals. Even if his dreams fed him awful, tantalizing images that shouldn’t have brought the kind of heat that it did. The growling of a wolf, jaws around his neck, not quite enough pressure to break him. 

Henryk woke up in a sweat, shivering. He gave in and shifted, stretching out over the covers, yowling like the miserable fool he was. Would it always be like this? Doomed to three days of torture every month because Gascoigne couldn’t trust the wolf. Surely they could work on it. It’s not like Henryk didn’t trust Gascoigne. He did. Both of them. Implicitly. Gascoigne just needed to see it for himself. He’d come around to it eventually. Henryk could help him. Yes, it sounded nice. More time with both the man and the wolf as they really were. The thought of shifting with Gascoigne gave Henryk a pleasant rush and he shifted back to human, miserable all over again that they were apart. He noticed rips in his sheets from his claws and decided to care about it some other time.  

He dragged himself to the bathroom, showered, jerked off for far too long, considered skipping out on work, bandaged the bite on his shoulder, jerked off again, then managed to dress for the day. It was obvious that he’d shifted in his sleep from the way the puncture wounds on his shoulder had shrank. Pressing at the little marks, he remembered their night and sighed, trying not to drown in the memory. 

This was going to be a long week. 

Finally, though, Henryk forced himself outside, his supply of aconite left untouched— too well hidden for his buzzing mind to remember. As he walked to the League, he tried to come up with productive things for himself to do in order to get over this. Mostly the list turned into a few people he wouldn’t feel bad about fighting. It’d been a very long time since he and Valtr had gone a few rounds. Might feel very cathartic to punch his boss square in the face. Brador, though, he’d adore the chance to formally kick that man’s ass. Maybe Jozef still wanted to fight him. Gratia could definitely take a hit no problem. Maybe she’d knock him unconscious if he asked nicely.

Tension built inside Henryk’s hands and he flexed them incessantly as he walked, but it didn’t help much. Certainly not as his brain began to supply scenarios in which he could spar with Gascoigne. He already knew how good it felt to draw a little of the shifter’s blood. A good old fashioned fight, though? 

Henryk shivered at the thought.

Bad ideas, indeed.

Henryk could hardly hold a passing conversation as he entered the League and someone offered up hello’s. He just tried to move forward, seeking out Valtr as soon as he could. 

“Give me something good,” Henryk said to him. “Please.”

Valtr glanced at Henryk, quickly assessed his state and shook his head. “I have a thought. Go home. Wait for your friend’s intel. Who knows when she’ll show up, after all.”

Henryk gripped the back of one of the chairs. “Are you… sure?”

“Yes. In fact, why don’t you work from home this week. I’ll send for you if I need you. Otherwise, let’s say I’ve asked you to do some clandestine work in the forest? Yes, yes, that sounds about right. I want you to spend some time seeing if you can track anything useful out of that Byrgenwerth mission. No rush on the matter. Just stay out of sight, please.”

Henryk breathed out a sigh. “It won’t always be this bad, I swear.”

“Off with you,” Valtr said. “Perhaps your pet cat could do with a scratching post at home.”

Henryk would have laughed if it weren’t painfully true. Destroying something sounded awfully nice right about then. 

“I’ll, uh, report back soon,” Henryk said. 

“Please, I fear for my furniture,” Valtr said, fixing Henryk with a stare. 

Henryk scurried out of the office, too grateful to be embarrassed. 

“Hey, Henryk, you busy later?” the older Madaras twin asked as Henryk headed for the front doors. “Drinks for the newbie!”

“Mission—all week— sorry!” Henryk called, rushing back out onto the street. 

Pathetic. 

 

-

 

There was no way Henryk could lock himself inside his house, unfortunately. As soon as he was home, he shifted again, pacing through every room. When he grew bored of that, he searched for something to scratch, settling for the leg of his kitchen table. It wasn’t very satisfying, but at least he didn’t have to feel bad for ruining it. Did it come with the place? He couldn’t even remember, all his attention focused on the feeling of repeatedly extracting his claws from the wood. By the time he found himself gnawing on it, the taste drying his mouth out, he had already decided that it didn’t particularly matter what he did to his own damn furniture. It’s not like he entertained. No one would care. The only person who came over was Gascoigne.

All at once, Henryk let go of the table.

Oh.

It was like he could hear music on the air, and he knew exactly where it was coming from. He could visualize the way perfectly, knew every step to take to get to his home. Henryk shut his eyes, picturing the route that only he could take in his small form, slipping between fence posts in order to wind up on Gascoigne’s porch. He imagined Gascoigne picking him up, holding the cat to his chest, squeezing him until he couldn’t breathe. A hand on his fur, a hand on his skin, miserable creatures they were _. _

Was Gascoigne thinking of him at that very moment?

Maybe the wolf was pacing the house, chewing up the sofa, howling for him. Henryk breathed, reaching for the table, back to human without even feeling it. He pulled himself up on shaking legs, clinging to the wall for support. Was this some kind of sickness? He’d never felt so hollow. Fumbling through his kitchen, he searched for any food that looked vaguely appealing, but it wasn’t what he wanted. He knew— body too warm, muscles too stiff— exactly what he was missing.  

Shifted again, he wandered into the living room, that feeling of clumsiness thick through his limbs. Like he’d grown too big for this body. Or his body was too big for him. An outfit he wasn’t ready for, feelings too grand to hold. This was worse than the poison Iosefka had given him, worse than a thousand snake bites, worse than any number of battle wounds he’d endured over the years. This was a hunger swallowing him from the inside out. 

Dragging himself back to his bed, the list of things he wouldn’t give to see the wolf grew smaller and smaller. Just one touch, all his money. One moment, his claws pierced the mattress, the next, his hands clenched the sheets. A kiss, lord, he’d sell his soul. He couldn’t feel the shift at all, only the fluctuations in his own body temperature as he tried to find the most comfortable form. The cat was too warm, but the man was too desperate. Every time he bared his skin, it was too painful to be alone. He’d give it all away just to feel Gascoigne on him. In him. His scent, his body, his hands, his teeth.

Henryk hissed, fingers hooked into a rip in the sheets, tearing them further apart. Not even touching himself eased the pain. There was no way he could make this better. It had to be someone else. Had to be  _ him _ . But leaving the house was absolutely out of the question. If he left the house, he knew exactly where he’d wind up. He had to respect Gascoigne’s wishes. He had to be good. Couldn’t give in. Be good. No matter how tempting. How badly. He wanted. Everything. 

Was he drowning, or burning alive? Writhing around in bed wasn’t helping. He needed air. Gaze on the window, Henryk was alarmed to see that the sun had already set. Hours had passed and he hadn’t even realized. Which meant, of course, that the high moon was approaching. The first night was supposed to be the easiest. How the fuck was he going to get through the next  _ two _ ? 

Cursed. It didn’t matter what he did to himself in his own home, as long as he didn’t leave. As long as he didn’t jeopardize Gascoigne’s decision. He had to keep them safe. Do the right thing. Find a way to cope. Fuck himself. Didn’t matter. God, anything at all,  _ just don’t lea _ —

_ Thump thump thump _ . 

Was that? 

Someone was at his door. Henryk bolted upright, chest heaving as he tried to settle down. The sound continued rattling down the hall. It seemed more like scratching then knocking. Half-drunk, Henryk forced himself out of bed. Could be a hallucination. He managed to grab some pants at the very least before he stumbled to his front door, struggling with the lock and the handle and then a rush of cool air.

The wolf stared at him with burning blue eyes. 

All the fight left Henryk’s body at once. “Oh, thank god.”

Gascoigne pushed past him into the house. Henryk barely remembered to shut the door behind him, so overwhelmed by the presence of the wolf. 

“Am I dreaming?” Henryk asked, sagging against the door. 

The wolf turned to him, growling, and it was pure electricity. 

“I can’t tell anymore,” Henryk admitted. 

The wolf raised himself up on hind legs, easily towering over Henryk, and set his front paws on the walls on either side of Henryk’s head. Trapped. Henryk met the wolf’s gaze, still trying to breathe right. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Henryk said, reaching a hand for the wolf’s chest, fingers disappearing into white fur. The wolf leaned his face down to Henryk’s, panting. 

“I trust you,” Henryk told him as he felt tongue on his neck. 

His eyes slid shut, fist in the wolf’s fur. He moaned at another lick across his shoulder, so ready to give in.  

Paw—hand— on his waist and the back of his neck. Hold gentle, but firm. Finally, all that warmth where it belonged. Gascoigne pressed himself into Henryk, mouth to his ear. 

“We couldn’t stay away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> he in for it now


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all knew this was going to happen.

Henryk nuzzled his face to Gascoigne’s, noses fitted, mouths barely touching. There was no need to discuss it. Gascoigne was here. Henryk wasn’t about to let him leave. Three days or three minutes, he didn’t care. He placed both his hands on Gascoigne’s neck and breathed in the scent of the wolf  _ right _ on the surface of Gascoigne’s skin. Tongue flicking out, he caught Gascoigne’s lip and sighed. 

“I… we…” Gascoigne struggled to speak clearly. “Can we—”

Henryk silenced him with a kiss. He wanted them  _ both  _ here.

Gascoigne held Henryk against the front door by the mouth and pushed at the waist of Henryk’s pants. Henryk shimmed out of them, kicking them aside, reading the energy so easily. Finally, they could do this together. 

They both shifted at the same time, melting from the kiss to the floor. The wolf picked Henryk up by the scruff of his neck and carried him in his mouth down the hall to the bedroom. Henryk’s house was smaller than Gascoigne’s, and his room no exception, but there was at least space enough for the wolf to lay across the floor. He set Henryk down and pinned the small cat with his large forearm. The wolf licked every inch of Henryk, nothing urgent about it, just a moment to catch up. It had been a long time since the wolf had seen the cat and Henryk didn’t mind the attention at all. Eventually, the wolf simply rested his head on top of the cat and Henryk purred at the contact, no shame at all. 

Slowly, the wolf began to inch further over top of Henryk, as if he meant to trap the cat beneath his body. Henryk slipped out from under the wolf’s torso, rubbing his face back up against the wolf’s cheek. The wolf returned the pressure, clearly trying to overpower Henryk and shove him back to the ground, but Henryk kept dancing out of his reach. When the wolf nipped at the cat’s tail, they locked eyes, Henryk’s entire body taught. The wolf’s ears peaked, pupils dilated, and Henryk found his own heart pounding in response. The wolf leaned forward, mouth opening, and some giddy urge took hold of Henryk.

The cat bolted from the room and the wolf came sprinting after him, thundering through the house. There was no reason to run, except that Henryk wanted to. He wanted the wolf excited, he wanted the rush of getting chased— and maybe caught. As he tore through the kitchen, searching for a place to jump out of reach, he heard the skitter of claws on wood and turned to see the wolf going far too fast to stop himself. Henryk shifted as the wolf collided with him, arms wrapped around his neck to catch him. They slammed into the wall, and Henryk burst out laughing. The wolf immediately wrangled Henryk underneath him, pinning him down. Henryk just rubbed around the wolf’s ears as he endured more licking, knowing there was no point in arguing. It wasn’t that he thought the wolf wouldn’t understand; Henryk just knew he wouldn’t listen. The wolf wanted this, and truthfully, so did Henryk. Even the odd roughness of the wolf’s tongue was calming to his starved skin.

When the wolf leaned over Henryk’s mouth, Henryk shook his head. “You want to kiss me, you let the man do it.”

With a groan, the wolf shifted and Gascoigne pressed his lips to Henryk’s. Henryk smiled through it, and Gascoigne gave him this bright eyed look, like he was brimming with energy and all of it was for Henryk. Henryk opened his mouth like he was going to speak, but nothing met the silence except his own excited breaths. Things began to grow hazy as the reality of the situation settled into him. Henryk pulled Gascoigne in for another kiss, that heat from before rushing back through him. Naked from the shift and full of raw moon madness, they just gave in to each other. Even though he was human, Gascoigne pawed at Henryk as if he weren’t, hands rough, grip stronger than he needed. As he held Henryk’s arms down on the floor, it stopped being a question of  _ if _ , only  _ how _ . Henryk got his legs up around Gascoigne’s middle. Something seemed to be coming apart inside him, the thoughts he no longer wanted to listen to were shutting down. The only thing he needed to understand was where he and Gascoigne touched: tongue to tongue, chest to chest, his thighs pressed into Gascoigne’s hips. The both of them were as ready for it as if they’d been working each other over for hours. When Gascoigne pressed himself closer and Henryk felt him hard and wet already, he broke the kiss. 

“Just fuck me, please.” His voice was barely recognizable, hollowed out by desperation.

Gascoigne answered him with a half-human moan. Time became meaningless, as if giving in had stripped the rest of the world away. Gascoigne turned Henryk sharply onto his stomach and Henryk’s brain simply stopped processing anything other than what was happening in the moment. Nothing else mattered, no past, no future, only the now. Gascoigne buried his fingers inside Henryk, and it was too dry, but they could fix that. Henryk’s whole body trembled as he felt that damn tongue again, and it was exactly what he wanted, sliding inside to calm the friction. He couldn’t tell anymore if it was Gascoigne or the wolf, couldn’t bring himself to care as he pushed his hips back into it. All he had room for was this new insatiable desire to be touched as much as possible, inside and out. His eyes rolled back as something started howling through him. 

How long had they been here? One moment, Gascoigne was licking Henryk open, and it was such a patient kind of pleasure, the kind that burned so goddamn good. He blinked and Gascoigne shoved Henryk’s face into the hardwood floor, stars skittering across his vision as he took Gascoigne inch by inch. Fingers dug into Henryk’s hips to get him further back, as deep as he could get. Henryk heard himself give this pleased gasp just as Gascoigne started fucking Henryk into the floor like it was all he knew how to do. Henryk could hardly breathe as Gascoigne started to break every little piece that held him together. Still, Henryk found a way to beg for more. Pain didn’t exist to him now; it was all just a measure of sensation. 

Henryk felt something overflowing inside him, some physicality he’d never had access to before. It somehow had nothing and everything to do with Gascoigne. The more he focused on the feeling of connection to Gascoigne,  _ ah the way he moved _ , _ shattering Henryk with ease, _ the less Henryk was able to grasp reality. 

Things were fading in and out. As soon as he felt himself let go— was he drooling? did he come? was it almost painful relief? yes yes yes— the kitchen was gone and Henryk was in his bed. The wolf stood on the floor beside him, leaning his head down. Very carefully, the wolf fit his jaws around Henryk’s thigh. Something buzzed through Henryk as he noticed a trail of other teeth marks down his leg. A fang pierced Henryk’s skin and the feeling ricocheted through his whole body. He clutched the sheets, back arching off the mattress. 

“Again,” he asked. The wolf obliged, adding another score onto his leg. Every time the wolf bit him, Henryk felt it deeper and deeper, until he thought maybe it might be nice to just have the wolf tear him apart and let out all that extra pressure. Henryk went to laugh at the thought, as if he were some steam powered machine that needed adjusting, but everything turned and when he opened his mouth, it was the cat letting out a soft mewl as Gascoigne ran a human hand down Henryk’s side for an impossibly long time, nails scratching through his fur just hard enough. Henryk stretched, kneading Gascoigne’s arm, purring without a care in the world. This he adored: Gascoigne petting him like old, only it was better now. Gascoigne knew the man on the inside. Henryk showed his stomach and Gascoigne leaned down, pressing his face to Henryk’s chest only Henryk was human again. Gascoigne whispered words into Henryk’s skin, right over his heart, clinging to him like he was keeping Henryk together. 

_ “Never felt like this. Never knew I could. Never wanted anyone like this.”  _

Henryk held onto Gascoigne, felt skin rend and give way to fur, refusing to let go as the body grew unwieldy in his arms. Pulling him closer, feeling him fight off the shift, but Henryk didn’t care, couldn’t he tell? Henryk wanted Gascoigne however he could have him. Whatever it meant. Henryk pressed their faces together, didn’t care about the gnashing teeth. He slid a hand down Gascoigne’s back to soothe, the shape of him growing distorted. The way Gascoigne moved— stilted, every muscle tense— Henryk knew he was wrestling with the wolf. With one hand, Henryk took the man’s chin and forced their eyes to meet. Gascoigne’s entire body was caught somewhere between human and animal, but all Henryk saw were his eyes. They were always the same blue no matter what form he took. Henryk would know those eyes anywhere. 

With his other hand, Henryk kept scratching down Gascoigne’s back until he found the base of the shifter’s tail. Henryk’s fingers wrapped around it, gripping tightly as Gascoigne gave a warning growl.

Henryk just smiled, guiding Gascoigne’s face closer and closer. All he could think to say was, “give me all of you” before he pressed his lips to Gascoigne’s broken mouth. Bodies pressed together, sharing the same breath, Gascoigne relaxed into him. His jaw shifted into something easier to kiss, the rest of him still vaguely human, but the fur never quite went away. Henryk kept his grip on Gascoigne’s tail, both to encourage him, and also because he liked the way it felt, muscle taught along the palm of his hand. 

When Gascoigne finally held Henryk again it was with claw-tipped fingers, gentle on his skin. Communication became a quiet thing as they felt for each other in the dark. Still unwilling to let go of Gascoigne’s tail, too obsessed with holding him there between forms, Henryk buried his other hand between their bodies. Gascoigne groaned when Henryk found that bit of bare skin. It didn’t matter what had come before this moment or how long they’d been tangled up. This right then was entirely new. 

Something only  _ they _ could do. 

Gascoigne reared back onto his knees as Henryk felt him out, panting like he’d never been touched before. Henryk rose to meet him, eager to stay in contact. He pressed his face to Gascoigne’s chest, lips brushing over the swell of his muscles. Gascoigne started gently stroking Henryk’s hair, though his hand pressed harder and harder to match Henryk’s quickening pace on him. Palm slick with it, Henryk glanced down at the mess he’d made. It should have felt at least a little wrong, pleasuring Gascoigne in that form, but Henryk was too enamored with this to care. He would have been fine to carry on just like this— ardently waiting for Gascoigne to snap. He liked watching his own fingers sliding over Gascoigne’s skin, feeling Gascoigne’s hips start to move in tandem, listening to the sounds he made, getting pawed at while the tension built. Henryk dared to take Gascoigne’s tail back up in his other hand and he felt more than heard Gascoigne’s rumbling response. It could have been some meaningless noise, but it sounded like Henryk’s name rising up through rough tones. Henryk said Gascoigne’s name back, a little delirious, but also a little in love with this. His rubbed his check against the softness of Gascoigne’s fur, and slid his thumb right over the head of Gascoigne’s cock, eliciting such a pleasant reaction. Harsh breaths in his ear, claws threatening to slice into him, teeth getting closer and closer to his skin. Henryk sighed, feeling in his own body how close the shifter was to release, as if Henryk too were going to burst at any moment. Gascoigne snarled as stripes of fluid coated Henryk’s stomach. Henryk thought to rid him of every drop, but as he slowed his motions, Gascoigne leaned his head back and howled. 

It was a lovely sound that filled the room like warmth and light. Henryk watched Gascoigne in awe, gaze dragging across this new body. As the room fell quiet once again, Gascoigne looked Henryk in the eyes and breathed, “all of you.” 

Henryk’s pulse jumped. Oh, the moon had plans for them. Gascoigne got Henryk onto his back, only scratching him a little on the way down. Henryk didn’t complain, but he wondered for a moment if they had to wait, only to realize that that overflowing, endless feeling inside of him must have been in Gascoigne too. The wolf was more than ready, and Henryk invited him in. There was a moment where it seemed it wouldn’t work, this other form bigger than Gascoigne’s purely human self, but with a sigh, Gascoigne shifted just so and then—  _ finally _ . 

Henryk raked his hands across Gascoigne’s back, mumbling the same two words over and over, in a haze of ecstasy. 

“My moon, my moon, my moon.”

Everything started to slip away again, as if that rhythmic pressure were hypnotizing him. All Henryk needed was this— them— as close as they could possibly get. Maybe they’d been there for hours, maybe they’d been fucking for days, maybe this was just a fever dream and Henryk was still by himself, drowning in want. With a deep breath in, it all came crashing back: a half-shifted Gascoigne absolutely undoing Henryk from the inside out. 

The high moon was doing things to them, yes. It offered energy, healing, and the ceaseless ability to want and take more. Every time it seemed like the madness had passed and maybe they would finally rest, Henryk would catch a glimpse of him, hear him, feel him, and it was enough to flood his mind all over again, setting him back to desperate like they hadn’t been together this whole time. 

Maybe they were ripping each other apart and he just couldn’t tell, but what a gorgeous feeling it left along his skin. 

He’d never felt so very alive. 

 

-

 

A thick haze clung to Henryk’s mind for a long time as he fought for awareness. It felt like clawing his way out of sand. He pushed against it, reaching for the light of the day. Prying his eyes open, it struck him all at once. 

He sat up, brows furrowed. He felt fine. No, he felt  _ good _ . If anything scratching at his memory was true, he should have been ruined. 

_ Gascoigne _ . Henryk turned to find the man passed out beside him. Henryk’s bed was just barely big enough for the both of them and Gascoigne was dangerously close to the edge of the mattress. Henryk touched his shoulder, leaning closer. 

He didn’t respond, still in a deep sleep. There was dried blood on his chin and his hands. Henryk shook him a little. 

“Gasc,” he said, surprised his voice wasn’t hoarse. “Hey.”

The shifter made a low noise, hand flexing. Henryk could hear him also struggling to break out of the haze the moon had left them in. Gascoigne tensed, sighing and forced his eyes open. He turned his head just enough to face Henryk, eyes threatening to slide shut again before he reached a hand to touch Henryk’s.

“You’re okay,” he said, though he sounded like he was barely able to get the words out. 

Henryk nodded. “Yeah, I’m good. Are you?”

Gascoigne smiled just a little. “Sure.”

Henryk took Gascoigne’s hand and put it around his own wrist. “Squeeze.”

The shifter started laughing, fingers just barely tightening around Henryk’s arm. “I’m… a little tired.”

“You need to eat,” Henryk said. “I’ll make something, okay?”

Gascoigne nodded, hand thumping uselessly back to the bed. “Yes sir…”

Concern washed over Henryk, but the dreamy smile on Gascoigne’s lips made him feel like it was going to be alright. He got out of bed and felt the immediate, desperate desire to shower. He rinsed himself off quickly and checked his body for anything unusual, but all he found were the indents left from Gascoigne’s teeth, already mostly healed away. A shiver ran down Henryk’s spine as he gave up counting the little marks. After hunting around for clean pants, he went to the kitchen to prepare something for the both of them, though as he cooked, he realized he wasn’t even remotely hungry. Still, logic told him he should eat as well. He had no memory of eating at all over the last couple of days.

Henryk was putting food on the table when he heard those slow heavy footfalls approaching. Gascoigne looked rough around the edges to say the least, but he still managed to smile at Henryk. There was a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Been waiting for this moment,” he said, shuffling over. “You, cooking.”

“Only took a full moon,” Henryk said, touching his face. Gascoigne had already washed away the blood from his lips and hands. “What’s with the towel?”

“Unlike you, thief that you are, I can’t steal your clothes. I’d rip them in half.”

Henryk patted his side. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting a four legged visitor. Sit.”

Gascoigne let Henryk guide him to a chair, and Henryk sat across from him, still a little nervous by his weakened state. But after Gascoigne ate both his  _ and _ Henryk’s portions, some of the worry began to ease. 

“Fuck,” Gascoigne sighed after he’d finished. “I feel like there’s a hole in my stomach.”

Henryk studied him. “As far as I know, you haven’t eaten for three days.”

“Not unless you count—”

“I don’t,” Henryk interrupted, eyeing him, wanting to laugh but not quite ready to let go of his anxiety. Another shiver chased through him as more memories returned. 

Gascoigne met his gaze with a smirk, as if reading his mind. “Fuckin’ full moon.”

“Gasc,” Henryk started. “Was that… normal? I know I’m not exactly well versed here, but that didn’t seem normal to me.”

“Which part,” Gascoigne started, reaching his hand across the table. Henryk met him, lacing their fingers together. “The part where the moon hadn’t even risen and I swore I could  _ hear _ you asking for me?” Gascoigne lifted Henryk’s hand to his face, touching his lips to Henryk’s knuckles. “The part where I mighta blacked out while we were together and I didn’t even care because there was this voice inside me telling me to just keep going, that you needed me?” Gascoigne kissed the back of Henryk’s hand. “Nah, you must be talking about how the wolf and I split the difference so we could  _ both  _ starve ourselves just to keep fucking you, and I don’t regret it at all because you look more awake than I’ve ever seen you.”

Henryk tried to breathe, but his chest felt tight. 

Gascoigne smiled, gaze flicking back up to Henryk’s. “I swear, even with my teeth marks all over you right now, you look— you  _ smell _ so fucking good. Healthy. Alive.”

Henryk’s lips parted, struggling to respond. 

“No, it’s not normal,” Gascoigne finally answered him. “I’ve never heard of a shifter sharing a body the way that I just did. Finding an in-between.” He shook his head, eyes widening for a moment. “But, fuck me, I’d do it again. I don’t know if it was just the moon, but I felt so good like that with you.” His voice went quiet. “Felt like I was keeping you alive.”

Henryk’s throat ached. “Maybe you were.”

“We don’t know what you are,” Gascoigne reminded him. “So we have no way of knowing what normal is anymore.”

Henryk nodded. 

Gascoigne squeezed Henryk’s hand, stronger than he’d managed earlier. “I might not look as  _ radiant _ as you do right now, but I’ll be okay, I promise. Stop worrying.”

Henryk had to laugh. “Will shifting speed up the process?”

Gascoigne furrowed his brows in thought. “I don’t think so. There’s nothing to heal, I’m just exhausted. Besides, I think the wolf needs a minute to recuperate from whatever that other form was. Took a lot out of us.”

Henryk stood up, circling the table so he could put both his hands on Gascoigne’s face. “Tell me what you need. I’ll do whatever I can, okay?”

Gascoigne smiled wide, leaning forward to rest his head on Henryk’s chest. “I think I like you being all concerned. I might try and take advantage of your kindness.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Henryk said, fingers paging through Gascoigne’s hair. “I’ll be sure not to be  _ too _ kind.”

“I need a shower,” Gascoigne said. “I need three showers.”

“Take a bath,” Henryk said. 

Gascoigne caught his eye. “Come with me. Make sure I don’t fall asleep or something.”

Henryk nodded. “I got you.” 

 

-

 

It was hard to describe the feeling that opened up inside Henryk’s chest while he watched over Gascoigne in the tub. Gascoigne had his eyes closed, occasionally just sighing or cursing in contentedness. There wasn’t nearly enough space for both of them, so Henryk perched on the edge of the tub with just his feet and calves in the water. Gascoigne had his hand around Henryk’s ankle, occasionally running his thumb over Henryk’s skin. This felt right.

“This is nice,” Gascoigne admitted. “I should do this more often.”

“You’re welcome to my tub whenever you want,” Henryk said.

Gascoigne smiled. “Wish I could take you to the Upper Ward. My old place there had a bathroom you’d die for.”

Henryk chuckled. “Don’t make me jealous now.”

“Maybe I can pull some strings,” Gascoigne teased. “It’s still technically my place. You did just have a run in with a wolf that you weren’t expecting. Maybe you should let someone come here and give this place a good cleaning. I could put you up while you wait it out. Like a good friend.”

Henryk smirked. “Who’s going to foot that cleaning bill?”

Gascoigne opened his eyes. “At your service.”

Henryk nudged Gascoigne’s leg with his foot. “Go back to sleep.”

“I do have a more serious favor to ask,” Gascoigne said. 

“Hm?” Henryk watched him.

Gascoigne pulled a face, laughing a little. “I’m not sure… when I left my house… if I shut my front door behind me.”

“Holy shit,” Henryk covered his mouth. “Yes, I will go and make sure no one has looted your house in the past three days. You idiot.”

“Couldn’t help it,” Gascoigne sighed, still smiling. “I had to get here. You needed me.”

“I’m flattered,” Henryk said. “And a little astounded.”

“Don’t make fun of me, I’m weak,” Gascoigne said. “I’m your charge now. You have to take care of me and that means no making fun of me.”

“You invited yourself here,” Henryk said. “I can’t be responsible for what happens.”

“I really did, didn’t I?” Gascoigne squeezed Henryk’s ankle. “Here I was worried about  _ you _ coming to me. Sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize,” Henryk said, perhaps more sincere than he originally intended. As much as he wanted to be lighthearted, he couldn’t hide the truth. “I was dying before you got here. Wanted you so bad it hurt.”

Gascoigne was staring at him, and Henryk felt a little self conscious. “I wasn’t lying when I said I thought I could hear you. I knew it wasn’t real, but… it tore me up to think you were alone and hating it. We started talking to each other, the wolf and I, and it just became impossible not to go find you.”

Henryk put his hand on Gascoigne’s face, tucking some of his hair behind his ear. “I’m glad you got here. Just sorry it took so much out of you.”

Gascoigne gave a shrug of his shoulders. “Worth it. I just need to sleep it off.”

“Speaking of, let me make my bed a little… less awful.”

Gascoigne chuckled and let him go. Henryk went back to his bedroom, for the first time assessing the damage done. He started laughing to himself as memories solidified in his mind. Yes, they’d been wild. Henryk pulled all the tattered sheets from the bed, sighed at the state of the actual mattress, punched through with holes, and decided to use the couch instead. He collected every clean blanket and pillow he could find and set it up for Gascoigne. Gascoigne found him some minutes later, guilt all over his face. 

“Sorry about your bed,” he muttered, putting his face to Henryk’s neck. 

Henryk just laughed, patting Gascoigne’s head. “It’s alright. Sorry my couch isn’t more comfortable.”

Gascoigne kissed the side of Henryk’s face. “It’s just fine. Smells like you.” 

He shuffled over and started burrowing into the various blankets, almost too big for the couch, but just barely making it work with one foot sticking off the edge. He smiled at Henryk. 

“Thank you.”

Henryk returned the look. “I’m going to go make sure your house is still standing and maybe check in with Valtr. Get some sleep.”

“On it,” Gascoigne said, eyes already shut.

Henryk leaned down and pressed a kiss to Gascoigne’s forehead. He could smell the wolf, but he was far far away. Nothing was wrong with Gascoigne, but he was severely depleted. Henryk imagined it might be difficult for Gascoigne to shift at all in this state. As Henryk showered properly and then dressed, he made a mental note to avoid any shifters who might recognize Gascoigne’s scent. It didn’t seem to matter what Henryk did, the shifter’s scent still clung to him. 

He left the sleeping wolf and set out to check Gascoigne’s house first. The door had been shut, thankfully, but not locked and Henryk slipped inside to check everything. He couldn’t imagine a thief bold enough to steal from a wolf’s house, but the full moon did present certain opportunities for those who were desperate enough. 

After determining that everything was where it should be, Henryk gathered some clothes for Gascoigne, stuffed them in a bag and took it with him. As he walked through the city to the League, he caught a scent on the air. Putrid— death clinging to life— and then it was gone. He paused in the street, spinning in a circle to see if anything was causing it, but nothing stood out. The city was clearly still struggling out of the moon’s grip. Hardly any shifters were out yet.

Henryk shook his head. He must still be waking up.

 

-

 

Gascoigne had never slept so deeply. Even if Henryk’s couch wasn’t ideal, it was easy to find peace in this house. Everything had Henryk’s scent on it and his body was so terribly exhausted, things settled quickly. He didn’t dream, not with the wolf so quiet inside him. Even though nothing was wrong with either of them, Gascoigne had pushed the wolf to his absolute limit, physically and mentally. It hadn’t just been the body that wore them out. Their minds had melded in a completely unique way, and the wolf had been unprepared for such complex emotion. Only the full moon could have enabled such a form without driving the both of them insane. The full moon and Henryk. Gascoigne could tell that Henryk was partly responsible for whatever had allowed that. Nothing else could have motivated both he and the wolf so strongly to take such a risk. The moon opened the door, but Henryk had given them the desire to step through. And now, the wolf was nearly unreachable.

Gascoigne felt it without even trying. He would be unable to shift for a while. 

Still— in this place, surrounded by his favorite scent— it didn’t frighten him. Rising up from another deep respite, Gascoigne groaned at the sound of someone at the door. He was prepared to ignore it and pretend no one was here, but he heard a person on the other side he recognized. 

“Hello there, friend!” Brador’s voice was nails on a chalkboard at that moment. “Figured I’d find you here if you weren’t where you’re supposed to be. Bit of a bold stunt, if you ask me, but you didn’t. If I could have just a moment of your time, I’d so appreciate it.”

Gascoigne closed his eyes, sighing. Brador wasn’t using his name or title, which meant he was probably trying to be discreet. 

“I can come back later if you want,” Brador went on. “But, truthfully, I was hoping to catch you while the cat was away.”

Despite everything, Gascoigne was intrigued. He rose from the couch and went to the door, peering through the peephole. Brador was smiling, all dressed up in the uniform of Ludwig’s personal guard. He was alone, which helped eased any suspicion. Even without his shift, Gascoigne was fairly confident he could incapacitate Brador if he had to.

“There you are,” Brador chirped.

Gascoigne grumbled. “You got a pretty good nose.”

“Even better ears,” Brador said, giving a slight bow. 

“I’m not dressed,” Gascoigne said. 

“I can wait,” Brador offered. “Or, I could take my own off if that makes you feel better. Level the playing field.”

Gascoigne rolled his eyes. “Hold on.” He tied a blanket around his waist before letting Brador into the house. Brador was deceptively small, Gascoigne could tell. He was thin, yes, but there was obvious capability in him. Everything about him was an act to make him seem like less of a threat. Still, he was also clearly just a touch insane.

Once he was in the house, Gascoigne shut the door and eyed Brador. The man went straight to the kitchen like he was familiar enough and got himself a glass of water. 

“Ah, you two really had a ball, hm?” Brador asked, nose in the air, giving Gascoigne high brows. “I wasn’t sure until now if you’d really passed the moon or not.”

Gascoigne folded his arms over his chest, coming to lean in the doorway. He was already tired just from being up from the couch. “I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that anything we’re about to discuss is hypothetical.”

Brador grinned. “You got that look right from him, didn’t you? God, he’s given me that same scowl a thousand times over. Does my heart good.”

“What do you want?” Gascoigne asked, too curious to ignore.

Brador sipped his water for a moment. “Hm. Listen. I’ve known little Hen since he was this big.” Brador pinched his thumb and forefinger together. “Took me a very long time to realize why I’d never seen him with a girl of his own, you know?”

Gascoigne narrowed his eyes.

“I don’t give a shit, mind you,” Brador said quickly. “I’m sure he gave up telling me secrets a long time ago, so I just assumed it was all about the cat. Didn’t think he’d ever find someone he could trust with that. ‘Course, he’s not always as careful as he thinks. I’ve seen him slip up a couple of times, when he wants to trust but he can’t. You know. We leave trails without even realizing it sometimes.”

Head tilted, Gascoigne listened closely. He could smell something off about Brador, but his own senses were a little dulled after everything else.

“I was pleased as punch to see the little guy at your house, and of course I put it all together right quick.” Brador trailed off, taking another drink of water. “I just wanted to know. Really see it for myself. He used to be my only friend, you know? I want him to have this.”

Gascoigne almost smiled. “Is this you… vetting me?”

“Someone ought to,” Brador said, raising his glass to Gascoigne. “Considering the position you two are in, I’d say I’m about the only one who can.”

Gascoigne laughed. “What do you want to know, then?”

Brador shook his head. “I think I got the full picture the second I stepped inside. A wolf without clothes the first morning after the full. Obviously you’ve been here for a minute. God, he really passed the moon with someone?” The reverent tone in Brador’s voice struck through Gascoigne. 

“Yeah,” Gascoigne answered, eyes on the floor. “But… I don’t think he knows what that really means to shifters.”

Brador frowned. “You haven’t explained it?”

Gascoigne shrugged. “I wasn’t exactly planning on being here. It just kinda happened.”

“Couldn’t stay away, could you?” Brador asked, eyes bright. “You and your wolf.”

Gascoigne felt far more scrutinized having this conversation with someone who knew the specifics. 

“I’m happy for you both,” Brador said. “Really, I am. Maybe it doesn’t quite mean the same thing for him, but he obviously cares for you.”

“What makes you say that,” Gascoigne tried not to sound too piqued, but he couldn’t deny that he wanted to know if Brador actually meant anything by it. 

“He made you a nest on the couch,” Brador said. “When I stayed with him, he didn’t even say goodnight.”

Gascoigne laughed. “You’re a special case, as far as I know.”

Brador chuckled. “Fair enough, but think of it this way. I had to blackmail him to even let me in the house. But you? I bet he welcomed you with a smile.”

“Something like that,” Gascoigne said back.

“So, have you just let it all go, then?” Brador asked. “Passing the moon and everything?”

Gascoigne shrugged. “You don’t just  _ let go _ of all that. I just… won’t hold him to it.”

Brador made a face before finishing off his glass of water and setting it back on the counter. “Or you could tell him.”

“After?” Gascoigne asked. “Feels like a bad idea. Like I’m trying to trap him into something.”

Brador pointed at Gascoigne. “This is Henryk we’re talking about. Honesty is always best. You should know that by now.”

Gascoigne huffed, knowing full well that Brador was right. “I need to figure out how to explain it, that’s all. Like I said, this wasn’t planned.”

“That makes it all the more romantic, don’t you think?” Brador asked, pushing away from the counter. “Look, if I can’t be honest for him anymore, the least I can do is help his wolf along.” 

Gascoigne bristled at the familiar way that Brador spoke to him, but hearing it put like that,  _ his wolf _ , kind of sounded good. The wolf had certainly made  _ his _ allegiance clear. Gascoigne may as well do the same. 

In time, though. Maybe not when Ludwig was breathing down his neck, and Micolash threatened from a distance.

“I was surprised when Ludwig didn’t come banging down my door before the moon,” Gascoigne said. “You have anything to do with that?”

Brador shook his head. “Must’ve been something our boy said to him. Henryk sure does have a way with words for someone who claims to hate talking.”

Gascoigne chuckled as he considered what Henryk could have said. Obviously Ludwig had leaned into the whole ‘caring father’ angle when he’d spoken with Henryk. Maybe Henryk had gone and made the man feel a little guilty after all.

“Formally, I came here to give you this,” Brador said, reaching inside his jacket for an envelope which he handed to Gascoigne. “I’ll let you rest. Your wolf seems a little down. Better hope you don’t need him anytime soon.”

Gascoigne studied him as he accepted the envelope, trying to discern what that other scent in the air was. Brador stuck his hand in his jacket pocket and pulled out a bundle of napkins, picking through to produce a wedge of an orange, which he popped into his mouth. Gascoigne wrinkled his nose at the citrus.

“Have a lovely afternoon, Captain,” Brador said, mouth full. “Remember, I am in your corner, so long as he’s in yours.”

And with that, Brador left. Gascoigne furrowed his brow as he locked the front door and returned to his nest on the couch. He opened the shiny envelope and revealed an invitation addressed to him. A performance in Yahar’Gul that he was meant to attend. The invitation allowed for a plus one. Gascoigne rolled his eyes and tossed the invite to the table. He didn’t have enough energy to pick it apart yet, so he just shut his eyes once again, sleep far too tempting. Brador was right about one thing. The wolf was distant, and needed his rest. They both did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> True facts, cats and dogs don't like the smell of citrus. Keep canine and lupine shifters at bay with a dash of lemon scented perfume.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we back! and we're picking up speed.

Henryk smelled Brador before he even got back into the house. He was surprised to find Gascoigne still asleep on the couch, the only trace of Brador being an empty glass in the kitchen and an envelope in the living room with the man’s scent on it. Henryk sat on the table and set his things down before waking Gascoigne with hands combing through his hair.

“Did you have a visitor?” Henryk asked.

Gascoigne nodded, turning a little so Henryk would keep going. “Your best friend stopped by.”

“I can smell,” Henryk said, fingers inching down Gascoigne’s neck. “Little rat.”

“It was fine,” Gascoigne said. “He just wanted to check in.”

“Sounds suspicious. How are you?” Henryk asked, leaning down to kiss Gascoigne’s face. Gascoigne put an arm around Henryk’s neck, pulling him in closer. 

“C’mere.” Gascoigne nosed at Henryk, seeking out his lips for a better kiss. Henryk obliged, trying not to get too swept up, wondering if Gascoigne was avoiding the question. A kiss was the wrong choice, though, as he started to fall deeper into it. At least some of the shifter’s strength had returned as he guided Henryk closer with a little more ease. 

“As much as I want to just… ” Henryk kissed him once more, fighting off the urge to lay down with him. “Tell me what happened.”

Gascoigne pointed at the envelope on the table. “He came to drop that off for me. And to make sure I was being nice to you.”

Henryk snorted. “The fucking nerve of that man, I swear. We should probably get you to your house, yeah? I got some clothes for you to make the walk back.”

Gascoigne smiled. “You’re just a dream come true.”

Henryk laughed. “You’re still half asleep. Come on.” He got the clothes out for Gascoigne and waited for him to dress. “I’ll follow you in shift, okay?”

Gascoigne nodded. “I’ll do my best. I might take my hat back, though, just to hide my face. Don’t want to have to explain to anyone why I look like shit today.”

Henryk retrieved the black hat from his bedroom and gave it to him. “Sorry about the cat hair.”

Gascoigne gave him a dreamy smile, brushing it off a little before setting it on his head. “I don’t mind.”

Henryk shed his own clothes and shifted. Gascoigne tilted his head, looking down at the cat. “You…?” he shook his head. “God, I’m still so tired. Let’s go.” 

He opened the door and stepped out, Henryk darting between his legs. The journey was fairly unremarkable, though Gascoigne did stop at one point just to lean on a wall and take a deep breath. He smiled at the cat once before pressing on. Henryk watched him, nervous that he wouldn’t be able to help if he was needed, but soon enough they were both safe inside Gascoigne’s house. 

The shifter rolled his shoulders and dragged himself to his bedroom. Henryk shifted and dressed in some of the clothes he’d left there. He paused, pressing his shirt to his face. 

“Did you wash my clothes?” Henryk asked.

Gascoigne didn’t seem fazed as he sat heavily in bed. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Henryk pulled the shirt on with a smile and went to get Gascoigne water and food. When he returned, Gascoigne had shed most of his clothes and was sinking into the covers. Henryk did his best to get some sustenance back into the man before letting him lay down again.

“I hate not being at one hundred percent,” Gascoigne said. 

Henryk noticed that the mysterious envelope from Brador was now on the bedside table. “Luckily, I’ll be here to get you back on your feet. What did my best friend have to give you?”

“See for yourself,” Gascoigne said.

Henryk unfolded a gilded invitation to some Yahar’Gul theater. “Oh, I didn’t know the Captain liked the symphony.”

“He does,” Gascoigne said, wrapping his arms around Henryk’s waist. “Maybe you want to join him as his personal bodyguard for the evening? After that whole party incident, it only makes sense to have a reliable fighter as my plus one. Wouldn’t want to put some innocent bystander at risk.”

Henryk set the paper down and leaned up to Gascoigne’s face. “You better pay me extra. I don’t usually work evenings. Let alone in Yahar’Gul.”

Gascoigne laughed quietly, hand on Henryk’s cheek. “I’ll make sure you are rewarded handsomely for your time.”

“Mm, how handsome?” Henryk asked, lips on Gascoigne’s neck. 

“As handsome as you, at least,” Gascoigne answered, head tilted back. Henryk couldn’t help himself. Maybe he was getting the urge to protect conflated with other urges, but all he wanted in that moment was to lick every inch of Gascoigne. 

“I’ll consider it,” Henryk responded, pushing the sheets aside to get at the shifter’s chest. 

“Take your time,” Gascoigne whispered, voice going husky as Henryk kissed across his collarbone. “Take all night if you want.”

Henryk laughed softly before he set his tongue on Gascoigne’s nipple. He felt Gascoigne tense underneath him, heard his breath catch. Henryk kept a gentle hold on Gascoigne’s sides, tracing his fingertips up and down his flank while he licked at his more sensitive skin. 

“I’m weak, you know,” Gascoigne spoke slowly. “Won’t hold out very long if you keep that up.”

“What, this?” Henryk asked, closing his mouth around Gascoigne’s chest, sucking just a little. 

“Yeah, just like that,” Gascoigne’s voice went thin as paper. 

Henryk kept it up, sliding one of his hands down Gascoigne’s stomach, nails scratching through thick hair until his fingers grazed pulsing heat.

“Fuck,” Gascoinge started pressing his thigh into Henryk’s side. “I’m not joking, Hen, I’m real light today.”

Henryk didn’t stop, just pulled Gascoigne’s leg around him and put his hand back to work. He didn’t care. It wasn’t about how long it lasted, just about that so sweet noise Gascoigne made as Henryk touched him. 

Gascoigne just closed his arms around Henryk’s back, still not nearly to his full strength, but tight enough to let Henryk know that he was doing well. The man fought for words. “It’s not fair… I’m all fucked up and you’re… more beautiful… than you’ve ever been…” 

Henryk picked his head up just to tell him, “S’alright. I like you a little fucked up.”

Gascoigne’s laughter died when Henryk put his mouth back on him, switching to the right side of his chest. Henryk went slow for Gascoigne’s sake, not that he minded. It gave him the time to appreciate every little sound and motion Gascoigne made. He liked being so aware of the build-up, feeling drops of fluid sliding between his fingers, making it even easier to move. Gascoigne was back to human for sure as he sighed through it.

“God damn.”

Henryk just offered up a smile to Gascoigne afterwards, chin resting on the shifter’s chest. Gascoigne languidly scratched Henryk’s back.

“Do you… I can try to—”

“Shh,” Henryk leaned up and kissed him. “That was all for you. Just rest.”

“Hate not reciprocating,” Gascoigne muttered.

“I owed you,” Henryk said. “Besides, it was just a ploy to tire you out. Go back to sleep.”

Gascoigne chuckled, letting his eyes slide shut while Henryk started to rub his shoulders. It barely took anything before Gascoigne was dead asleep again. Henryk left him, eating the food Gascoigne hadn’t finished in the living room with a book in hand. Before long, though, he was compelled back to Gascoigne’s side. He shifted and curled up beside Gascoigne’s head, listening to the sound of his breathing.   


 

-

 

When Henryk got up the next morning to find Gascoigne trying to dress for work, he wrangled him back to bed.

“No.”

“I can’t just stay home forever,” Gascoigne said as Henryk made him sit down again. 

“If I can overpower you this easily, you shouldn’t be working anyway,” Henryk said, pushing him onto the bed.

Gascoigne grumbled as Henryk got him to lie down. “What if something happens?”

Henryk smiled. “You’re a wolf. What happened to ‘I can take as much time as I want’?”

“You’re turning my words against me,” Gascoigne said.

Henryk nodded. “It’s normal for shifters to need a little extra time after the full moon. When’s the last time you took the full week off?”

Gascoigne shrugged. “I haven’t, since I came back.”

“Well then, now’s the perfect time to start,” Henryk said, pulling the sheets back up over him. “Rest or the wolf won’t get better.”

Gascoigne caught his eye. “Can you tell?”

“Yeah,” Henryk said, touching Gascoigne’s hair. “You can’t shift.”

Gascoigne heaved a sigh. 

“Tell them you’re sick,” Henryk said. “Stay in until this passes. I don’t want you to get caught somewhere without the wolf if you need him.” Gascoigne opened his mouth but Henryk cut him off. “ _ At least _ stay in until you can lift your axe without a problem. You need to be able to defend yourself.”

Gascoigne held Henryk’s gaze, finally letting go of some of the frustration in his eyes. “I’ll stay home today. For you.”

“Thank you,” Henryk said.   


“But you have to stay with me,” Gascoigne said, grabbing at Henryk’s hips. 

Henryk didn’t fight him, just settled in. This peace was too lovely to pass up. Gascoigne slept, and Henryk drifted in and out, read some more, and made sure that Gascoigne ate every once in a while. The wolf still felt far off, but he seemed to be steadily recovering. When Henryk ran his hands through Gascoigne’s hair, he could feel the both of them stirring. Bit by bit, they were healing.   


 

\- 

 

The next morning, Henryk couldn’t stop Gascoigne from staying down for another day. When Henryk grabbed Gascoigne’s arm, Gascoigne lifted him off the floor.

“Try and stop me now,” he said with a grin.

Henryk rolled his eyes, pleased at least that enough of his strength and good cheer had returned. 

“You’ve done your job well,” Gascoigne told him. “I feel much better, and you still look as fucking radiant as you did when you woke me up from the moon.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Henryk insisted. “How’s the wolf?”

Gascoigne rolled his shoulders. “Ahh, he’s still shut down, but we’ll be alright. He might need a couple more days off, but I can’t sit still forever. Besides.” He swiped the invitation off his nightstand and waved it in front of Henryk’s face. “You and I have somewhere to be.”

Henryk smiled. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll see what I can do.”

Gascoigne slipped an arm around Henryk’s back. “Maybe you’ll dance for me the way you did at that party.”

Henryk put his hand on Gascoigne’s chest. “Doesn’t really fall under bodyguard duties.”

Gascoigne put his lips on Henryk’s temple. “Maybe, for the night, you could be less like a body guard and more like a regular date. Just a thought.”

When Gascoigne settled both his hands on Henryk’s waist and started to move him to the tune of a silent song, Henryk closed his eyes. It wasn’t fair that they had to pretend. This was so nice. Why couldn’t they do this like other people? 

“I guess I could be convinced,” Henryk muttered, smiling against Gascoigne’s neck.

“Excellent,” Gascoigne said, letting him go. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Henryk released his grip, some light feeling taking hold in his chest while he listened to Gascoigne hum a tune as he dressed.

 

-

 

They parted ways for work, and Henryk returned home to get ready for the day. As he slipped inside, he picked up on a familiar scent at his door. He dressed just enough to pull the door open for Eileen.

“No announcement,” Henryk said, looking her over. “How unlike you.”

She turned to face him and Henryk could immediately tell something was off about her brown eyes. Too wide, unfocused. “Henryk.”

His brows furrowed and he reached a hand out to her arm. “Are you alright?”

Her gaze wandered a moment before coming back to him. “What… what am I doing here?”

“Eileen,” Henryk said her name sternly. “Look at me.”

She focused on his eyes. “I… came as soon as I could…” 

Henryk pulled her toward him. “Please come inside. Let me look at you.”

She didn’t fight, just drifted aimlessly after him. “I’ve… got quite the headache, love.”

“You smell off, but I can’t place it,” he said, guiding her into a chair in the kitchen. “Tell me what happened.”

He got her water and generic pain medicine as she took a deep breath. “I went after your man. I think.”

Henryk pulled another chair up right beside her and put his hand on her back. “Micolash?”

She nodded. “Yes, right. God, why is it so hard to remember…? Feels like I’m pulling nails out of the floor with my bare hands.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Henryk said, concern bleeding fresh. “Are you physically well?”

She nodded. “Not a scratch on me. But my head— my memory, it’s all— the last thing I remember is talking to you before I left. And now I’m here with you again.”

Henryk struggled to remain calm through this. She’d lost about a week of time. 

“Like I said, I’m fine,” she touched her chest. “I don’t feel any injuries. But… it’s like someone moved things around inside my head. You know when you stare at the sun for too long and then you see spots even after you’ve looked away? Even when you close your eyes.”

Henryk squeezed Eileen’s shoulder. “We should get you to a proper clinic, just to be safe.”

She nodded. “I’ll go to Maria. She has a doctor on staff, Adeline. She’ll keep this quiet for us.”

“Fine, but I’m going with you,” Henryk said. “At least until I know you’re safe.”

She smiled. “Always the worrywart. Fine. Get your coat.” 

Henryk finished dressing in a rush and gave Eileen his arm. “I’ll hail a carriage for you.”

“My knight, you are.” She sounded exhausted.

As they waited, Eileen leaned against him. “You know, when I try to think about the last… couple of days must be, it’s just this black haze. Except, I remember thinking about you. It was like you were the only map I had. I was just trying to get back to you.”

Henryk held her closer. “I got you now. And I’ll make sure you get fixed up.”

She nodded against him. “I just… wonder what would have happened if you weren’t there.”

Henryk turned to her. “I wasn’t there.”

“No—but in my head, I suppose,” she clarified. “It feels like, perhaps, I wasn’t supposed to come back. But something allowed me to find you again. Gods, I sound insane, don’t I?”

“Not to me,” Henryk said as a carriage came to a stop in front of them. “I’m sorry you had to go through this.”

She shook her head. “If this isn’t proof that something is out there, then I don’t know what else to say. Someone was going to have to go looking. May as well have been someone who could find their way back afterwards.”

Henryk helped her into the carriage. She spent the ride to Maria’s office with her eyes closed, trying in vain to remember any details about the mountains. Henryk didn’t push her though. 

“It’ll come or not, what matters is making sure nothing is wrong with you,” Henryk assured her. “Like you said, this is proof enough of interference. Let’s get you back to normal before you worry about details.”

She let it go as they walked up the pathway to the Spymaster’s office. Maria had done a fine job of building an entire department without a single man under her employ. Whenever Henryk made an appearance down here for Eileen, it was always in a flutter of  _ how are you’ _ s and  _ there he is  _ and  _ oh how he’s grown _ . They were all in on the teasing like it was their job. 

But when Henryk opened the door and everyone saw Eileen’s haggard state, it was like a switch had been flipped and not an errant word was spoken. 

“This way,” one of the others, Caryll, swooped in to lead Henryk and Eileen down to Adeline’s infirmary. Henryk hadn’t met this doctor before and though she spoke with a delicate tone, she immediately set to work looking Eileen over. 

“She’ll take it from here,” Caryll said to Henryk, shooing him out of the room.

Henryk sighed. “I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

“I know,” Caryll said, patting him on the shoulder. “You did the right thing bringing her here. Let Adeline do her work.”

Henryk bit his lip, guilt chewing him up. 

“If it's any consolation, she looks fine, just a bit shaken,” Caryll offered. 

“Yeah,” Henryk said. “I know, it’s just… it’s my fault she went out there.”

“As far as I knew,” Caryll insisted. “Eileen received a direct order from the Spymaster to investigate a potential lead. So don’t go blaming yourself for something Eileen wouldn’t blame you for.”

Henryk almost smiled. “Alright then. Can I wait here while she’s looked at?”

“Of course, kid,” Caryll said with a smile. Henryk wanted to laugh. Everyone here called him kid, regardless of their respective ages. Eileen definitely had her influence. With Caryll, Henryk really couldn’t tell how old they were. They were primly put together, usually quite neat and before Henryk had ever spoken to them, he’d assumed Caryll was a taskmaster, but he’d quickly discovered how cheeky they could be when they wanted. Caryll brought Henryk back to the main hall, a large room with a circular table set up for discussions. He sank down into one of the chairs and Caryll got him a cup of tea. 

“We have the good stuff,” they promised, perching on the table beside his chair. “None of the weak shit they pass off for tea in the Cathedral Ward.”

Henryk chuckled. “Thank you.”

“Can you tell me anything about what she was doing?” Caryll asked, arms folded. 

“All I can say is that this is tied into the recent attempt on Captain Gascoigne’s life and that whole incident with the clinic that opened up in Central,” Henryk said. He sipped at the tea while Caryll considered this. 

“Well, that’s a right mess, isn’t it?” Caryll said. “Not to say that I know anything about it. Certainly not to say that I’ve made myself familiar with the whole Micolash case. Not to say that Maria has ensured that all her employees are well versed in the mistakes that Laurence had made.”

Henryk nearly choked on his tea. “I, uh, hope you’re not planning anything too drastic now.”

“Oh, no, not like that,” Caryll said with a laugh. “Only that we like to have context for our actions.”

Henryk nodded. 

“I’m sure Eileen will be alright,” Caryll repeated. “But do tell that Captain of yours that things seem to be heating up around here and not just for him.”

“Maybe I should talk to him while I’m waiting for Eileen,” Henryk said. 

Caryll shrugged. “I’ve already sent messages to the Cathedral Ward and your League.”

“How did…?” Henryk stopped himself from finishing the question. “Spies. Of course. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Caryll said. “Drink your tea, then. It’s been a while since you’ve come around here. I remember when you used to meet Eileen for lunch all the time. You were a fixture here for a moment. We’ve missed you. How have you been?”

“I’m doing alright,” Henryk admitted. 

“I’d wager someone’s been calling on you, else we’d be seeing you more,” Caryll said, kicking Henryk’s chair. “Hm?”

Henryk tried not to laugh into his tea. “You’re all worse than actual siblings.”

“Come on, then,” Caryll smiled. “Someone’s got their eye on you, yes?”

Henryk just took another drink.

“Oh, you were always a tease like that,” Carylla said. “Come on, how about a game of chess? You and I haven’t played in a long time. It’ll pass the day while we wait for Eileen.”

Henryk gladly agreed.

 

-

 

When Eileen showed up in the hall some time later, Henryk felt palpable relief. “Thank god.”

“Did I have you worried?” she asked, still tired, but not nearly so confused. “Caryll, you’ve done an excellent job distracting him.”

Caryll smiled and pushed out a third chair near them. “Sit, sit. Tell us.”

She gave Caryll a smirk and gestured to Henryk. “I’m afraid this report is only for his ears.”

“I tried,” Caryll said, rising to their feet. “I’ll be off, then.”

Eileen took Caryll’s chair and folded her hands on the table. “I’m afraid nothing useful has come back to me.”

“That’s okay,” Henryk insisted. “As long as you’re alright.”

“Yes, Adeline seems to think that whatever happened, there are no physical symptoms. Everything else has come back to me, but there’s just this wall around the memories right before I got to the mountains and right when I got back to you.” She propped her head on her hand. “I don’t know what it could have been. When I try to focus on it, I just get this awful pain in my head.” 

“You don’t think someone got to you, did they? You can still shift, right?” Henryk asked.

Eileen nodded. “The bird and I are both fine. For what it’s worth, I don’t think anyone did anything to me. I think I saw something that… just did something to my mind. But I can’t quite explain why I think that. Just this feeling I have. Regardless, I’ll be out of commission for a while.”

“Eileen, I’m so sorry,” Henryk said, reaching across the table for her hand. 

She took his hand with a smile. “It’s alright, love. Time off sounds good right about now.”

“Tell me if anything else happens,” he said. “Even if nothing happens. Just check in with me?”

She chuckled and nodded. “Of course. Now, you’ll probably be wanting to go check in with the Captain. Don’t let me stop you.”

Henryk squeezed her hand before saying goodbye. He walked to the Cathedral Ward, all the while pondering what Eileen said about being able to come back because of him. As if having a connection to Henryk had allowed her to find her way out of there. If that was even possible. It was infuriating to realize how little they understood about everything Micolash could do. 

Henriett and Gascoigne listened to Henryk’s report quietly. 

“That doesn’t bode well for us,” Gascoigne said. “I don’t want to risk sending anyone else out there without knowing what’s waiting.”

“Agreed,” Henriett said. “That’s far too dangerous. But where does that leave us?”

“Waiting,” Gascoigne grumbled. “Again.”

“Maybe not,” Henryk said. “There’s something I want to look at back at Byrgenwerth.” 

“You need help?” Gascoigne asked.

“Not from you,” Henryk said with a smile. “You’re still healing.”

Gascoigne shook his head. “You won’t even let me pretend.”

“I can help,” Henriett offered. “If you need someone right away.”

“Sure,” Henryk said. “Can you go tonight?”

“Tomorrow night,” Gascoigne interjected, giving Henryk a toothy grin. “You have plans this evening. Don’t think of bailing on me now.”

Henryk sighed through a smile. “Yes, of course, how could I forget. Yahar’Gul tonight. Byrgenwerth tomorrow.”

“Sounds good,” Henriett said. “I’ll meet you here after sundown?”

“Great,” Henryk said. 

“Make sure you’re ready this evening,” Gascoigne warned. “Why don’t you meet me at my place and we’ll share a ride over?”

“How generous,” Henryk said. “Whatever means I spend less money.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Gascoigne said. “I expect your finest attire.”

Henryk headed for the door, casting Gascoigne a look over his shoulder. “Don’t make me regret this even more.”

Gascoigne just smiled at him.

Despite his jokes, Henryk was oddly nervous about this. If the Cathedral Ward was where one went for high-end, unnecessarily nice shopping and dining, then Yahar’Gul was where all those wealthy people came to relax afterwards. Full of lounges, theaters and galleries, Henryk had never had a reason to set foot in that neighborhood. Much of the old opulence of the former Queen had remained down there. Bolstered, of course, by Laurence’s own love of such spaces. 

Henryk gave Valtr the same update before he returned home. Valtr had reacted much the same, only to add to Henryk, “why do I feel like we’re missing something obvious?”

“Tomorrow, I’ll start digging deeper,” Henryk had assured him. “We’ve passed the point of ignoring leads just because they seem unreasonable.”

“Be careful out there,” Valtr had said as way of goodbye. Henryk didn’t like the sincerity of his voice. It wasn’t like Valtr to be openly concerned, least of all for Henryk. 

Any worries about safety and danger died while Henryk attempted to rescue his nicest clothing from strands of white wolf fur. How it even wound up on these clothes, he didn’t know, but there it was. After painstakingly removing any fur and then attempting to mask any animal scents with cologne, Henryk finally dressed. He felt foolishly nervous, as if this were a real date, but Gascoigne’s words hung lovely in the back of his mind. A dance might be nice. But only for him.

After far too much debate on a hat, (the answer was no) Henryk headed to Gascoigne’s. The man was waiting for him out front, carriage already hailed. Henryk took a breath, not at all eased that they wouldn’t have any time together before they were out into the world. But, damnit it all, Gascoigne did wear those clothes so nicely. Henryk thought he was through being starstruck by the look of him in such smart clothing, the long coattails and the perfectly fitted waist and his hair pulled half-up from his face, the black eye wraps twined through white locks. Gascoigne offered up a smile to Henryk. 

“Something about you is even more fearsome when you dress like that,” Gascoigne said. 

Henryk smirked and gave his most practiced bow. “At your service, Captain.”

Gascoigne grinned. “Well, well, where should we start?”

“The symphony?” Henryk suggested. “Unless it was an elaborate ruse to get me to dress like this, in which case…” Henryk approached Gascoigne, stepping into the shadow of the carriage to avoid the unwanted eye of the driver. He dared to touch the silver buttons on the front of Gascoigne’s coat, as if it needed adjusting. “A commendable effort, but you didn’t have to try so hard to get me to play games with you.”

“I would never,” Gascoigne said. The wraps he wore that night were different, almost sheer, and Henryk could see the shifter’s blue eyes beneath them. “We are expected, though the longer I look at you, the more regrettable I find that.”

Henryk chuckled. “Shall we, then?”

“Yes, onward.” Gascoigne opened the door to the carriage for Henryk. “After you.”

“What a gentleman,” Henryk said. 

Once they were inside, Gascoigne took a deep breath through his nose. “Ah, I swear it’s like you’ve been completely restored.”

“What do you mean?” Henryk asked.

“Since the moon,” Gascoigne clarified. “Nothing’s changed about you, but it’s like you’re somehow even more  _ you _ then you ever were. Makes it all the more difficult not to mess you up before we get there.”

Henryk crossed his legs. “I’m not the one who needs to worry about making impressions.”

Gascoigne leaned his hand on the seat between them. “Fuck you. Did you put cologne on?”

“Maybe,” Henryk said, eyes bright, angling his body toward him. “Can’t exactly walk around with the wolf’s scent all over me. Much as I’d like to.”

“Fuck you harder,” Gascoigne whispered, brushing his lips against Henryk’s. “God, I’d mark you if I could. Know that.”

Henryk’s heart raced at those words. “Where would you actually do it? As long as we’re speaking hypothetically.”

Gascoigne put his hands lightly on Henryk’s throat, no doubt feeling the way Henryk’s blood pulsed. “You cover your neck too often. No one would see it there. No, for you, it’d have to be somewhere unmistakable.” He pushed Henryk’s head back just a little before kissing him far too gently for this talk. “I’d bite your lip. That’d make things very clear.”

“I’d let you if it meant no one would bother me,” Henryk said, hands on Gascoigne’s shoulders, pulling him in. 

“I promise, no one would bother you if you had my mark,” Gascoigne said, fingers tracing Henryk’s hairline. “Quite a high penalty for asking after a wolf’s partner.”

“Is that so?” Henryk asked, fighting off the urge to push him harder.

Gascoigne smiled, thumb resting on Henryk’s bottom lip. “Wolves don’t take it lightly and we do have such sensitive noses. You’d have to be stupid to go sniffing after one of ours and not expect it come back on you.”

Henryk caught Gascoigne’s thumb with his tongue quickly. “You are such a jealous fool.”

“You’re the one on my arm tonight,” Gascoigne said. “Fucking teasing me in a carriage.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t fun,” Henryk countered.

“ _ You _ ,” Gascoigne growled and kissed him a little rougher, but he let go just as quickly. “Are a menace.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Henryk breathed, floored by the sum of this. He imagined for a moment the scene they would cause by walking into a beautiful Yahar’Gul theater, arm in arm, Henryk’s lip split and the scent of blood clinging to Gascoigne’s mouth. Would they even let Henryk inside? 

“Look sharp,” Gascoigne said, pulling away from him. “We’re almost there.”

Henryk sighed, sad to be stepping out of relative privacy. They were dropped off in front of a very grand looking courtyard, dozens of others milling about in the pleasant evening air. It was almost entirely a crowd of shifters, with some exceptions, but the scent of animal was all around. Of course, relaxing like this was common after the moon. This was probably the first some of them had been out since the height of the full, all of them dressed to the nines. Their luxurious public emergence from the week’s hibernation. 

The self consciousness hit Henryk square in the chest. No man was there without the company of a woman. He immediately attempted to hold himself tall and his face regressed into ‘work mode’. Eyes scanning the crowd, senses poised for any signs of danger.

“Just like that, you’re gone,” Gascoigne said quietly. 

Henryk eyed him. “I am here for a reason.”

“Because I want you to be,” Gascoigne told him. “All pretense aside, I really did just want you to see this.”

Henryk blinked. 

Gascoigne smiled. “And I’m supposed to be the clueless one. This way.”

They headed through the courtyard together. There were lanterns strung up along the structures around them, bathing the stone courtyard in a comfortable warmth and light. The people stood around high tables set up with candles, idling before the performance while they could still talk. There was no doubt in Henryk’s mind that people could recognize Gascoigne, but he wondered if they avoided him because of Henryk’s presence. He probably looked like a confused storm cloud beside the shifter. 

“Captain!” 

A high pitched voice caught their attention. Henryk spotted a woman in a pale dress waving.

“Fuck,” Gascoigne muttered through a smile. 

“That’s her?” Henryk asked, even though he knew.

“Yeah,” Gascoigne answered. He took a breath and straightened his back. “Would be rude of me not to say hello…”

They drifted toward Viola and the group she was with. They all looked vaguely related and Henryk could smell the familial air between them, save for one elderly man, wheelchair bound, who was distinctly separate from the rest of them. Henryk was surprised that he did not have the scent of a shifter, and yet, everyone seemed to be granting him similar respects— Gascoigne included.

“Gehrman,” Gascoigne said to the man, offering a bow and a handshake. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

The man, Gehrman, smiled at Gascoigne, though there was a hard edge to his gaze despite the friendly aura he was projecting. “Well, if it isn’t Captain Gascoigne himself.” The man laughed. “Where have you been hiding?”

Gascoigne returned the smile, though Henryk could see the guarded nature of it. “Speak for yourself, sir. I haven’t seen you out of the Upper Ward in quite a while. And now you’re bothering this poor family. War stories, I’ve no doubt.” Gascoigne directed this line to Viola.

She waved her hand. “Oh, he’s full of fascinating tales. We’re honored to share a table with such an esteemed member of the Upper Ward.”

“Not nearly so esteemed these days,” Gehrman said with a chuckle. “That’s what the young shifters like Gascoigne are here for. Isn’t that right, boy?”

Henryk could see just the slightest muscle twitch in Gascoigne’s temple. “Yes, exactly. Us young shifters are, of course, unimaginably busy running the city from the ground.”

“But you always made time for these things. It’s comforting to know you’re still so… enthralled by music,” Gehrman went on. “It’s a shame you’ve had to waste your plus-one on a coworker and not someone as lovely as �the miss.” Her flashed Viola another smile, and she put her hands on her hips.

“Now,” she gave him a look as though he were a mischievous child.

“Should we not extend luxuries to our friends as well?” Gascoigne asked. “At the very least to the ones who have saved our lives.”

“You’re the Confederate, then?” Gehrman asked, turning his grey eyes onto Henryk. 

“Oh, so many of us should be thanking you,” Viola said, clasping her gloves hands together. She smiled at Henryk, who struggled to remain calm in her presence. “You’ve been such a help.”

_ Help _ . Henryk cleared his throat. “It’s… don’t worry about it. I’m only doing my job.”

“Well, I’m glad you were there,” she pressed, big eyes full of life and light. "Who knows what would have happened?"  


Gehrman nodded. “Indeed. More humans need fire like yours. Can’t let the shifters do all the work, can we?”

“Of course not, sir,” Henryk managed. 

“Yeah, where’s the fun in that?” Gascoigne said, casting Henryk a glance. 

Henryk looked at the ground, trying not to smile back. 

“You’re one of Valtr’s favorites, yes?” Gehrman asked, staring at Henryk. 

Henryk shrugged. “Maybe, though there might be some shuffling around soon, far as I know. I believe he’s training a new apprentice.”

“Oh, is that so? I suppose you’ve outgrown him, then.” Gehrman put his hands on the wheels of his chair, turning to face the theater. “Let’s not bother the young lady any longer. Why don’t you escort an old man to the doors?”

He moved forward and Gascoigne went after him. “Can’t say no to a war vet, can I?”

“You can’t say no to your old teacher,” Gehrman said loudly. “Or, if you do, Ludwig will personally set you straight. I’m not bound to this thing, either. You know that well enough not to test me.”

Henryk didn’t know if the man was joking, but the careful quality in Gascoigne’s gaze kept him on edge.

“You’re leaving the League?” Gehrman asked, turning to look at Henryk again.

Henryk kept his face neutral. “I’m exploring my options.”

“Good,” Gehrman declared. “Someone with your unique talents shouldn’t bind yourself to someone like Valtr. If you ever wish to train with someone who isn’t afraid of blunting their instruments, I could take on one more student.”

Henryk almost laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind, sir. I take it you teach the use of weapons to the shifters?”

“It’d be foolish for them to lean on the animals too much,” Gehrman said, gesturing at Gascoigne. “Right, boy? A man should be able to defend himself no matter the moment, no matter the opponent.”

“Quite catchy,” Henryk said, eyeing Gascoigne for his take. 

Gascoigne put his hands in his pockets, on the brink of sighing. “Yes, you’re just full of witticisms, aren’t you?”

“Scoff all you want, but you still take that axe wherever you go, don’t you?” Gehrman said, all smug pride. “Though, here you are without it. Have you made friends with the wolf after all? I remember a time when you refused to let him out.”

“Things have changed,” Gascoigne said to him, voice pleasant enough, but his shoulders seemed to be tensing. “I’ve changed.”

Gehrman leaned his chin on his fist, propped on the arm of his chair. “We told you the girl would be good for you.”

“Believe it or not, I’ve benefited from being on my own,” Gascoigne said to him, eyes flashing. “And from the friends that I’ve chosen for myself. She has nothing to do with the wolf. He and I made our peace over something else.”

“Have you found a game more to your taste, then?” Gehrman asked, sly grin on his lips. 

Gascoigne smiled back at him. “It’s a comfort to know you’re the same miserable bastard you’ve always been.”

“The same one that taught you to fight properly, yes,” Gehrman said. “You’re ever so welcome.”

“We’ll leave you to it, then,” Gascoigne said, striding past the man. “Enjoy your evening, Hunter.”

“You as well, Captain,” Gehrman called, laughing as the two of them ascended the steps toward the theater.

“Gehrman, the Hunter?” Henryk asked in a low voice once they were clear of him. “The man who supposedly trained Ludwig?” 

“The very same,” Gascoigne said, ushering Henryk into the theater. “Such an asshole, I swear. Thinks we should worship the ground he walks on just because he’s been around since the dawn of time.”

Henryk snorted. “Don’t go easy on my account.”

Gascoigne smiled as they stepped inside, the theater itself full of warmth and the soft murmuring of the crowd. He continued to whisper to Henryk. “He used to serve the old Queen, before Laurence showed up and convinced him to switch ranks. Led part of the coup that ousted her. Or so the stories go. These days, he just teaches the wolves how to fight with weapons. And whoever else he deems ‘worthy’ of his teaching.”

“I’m guessing you two didn’t have the greatest relationship,” Henryk surmised. 

Gascoigne led Henryk up a flight of stairs. “He’s all smiles and charm until he’s cutting you to pieces when you disagree with him. I’ve got more than one scar from that damn scythe of his. I’d do well never to see it again.”

Down a dimly lit hall, Gascoigne approached a curtained off section with a card that read 'reserved' outside of it. He stepped through the curtains and held them aside for Henryk. A young staff member gave Gascoigne a smile. 

“Ah, Captain, do you require anything this evening?” 

“Privacy, please,” Gascoigne said, putting on a weary tone of voice. “It’s been a while and I’d appreciate the peace of mind. Let’s make sure my bodyguard here is quite bored this evening.”

“Yes sir,” the young man said with a quick bow and then disappeared behind the heavy curtain they had just come through. They stood on a balcony with only a few freestanding chairs, including a loveseat, a small table with glassware set out and a lit candle, a coat rack off to the side and a service bell. It was like a slice of a living room set inside a theater. They could see the stage clearly, but it was arranged so that it wasn’t easy to spot any other audience members. They were very nearly hidden from sight. 

Henryk raised an eyebrow. “I forget sometimes that you’re filthy rich.”

Gascoigne started laughing as he adjusted the curtains, making sure they were safely drawn before he came to stand in front of Henryk. “I spent the first fifteen years of my life in a shack in the woods with a drunk. Cut me some slack.”

“I didn’t say you don’t deserve it,” Henryk added, voice gone soft. 

Gascoigne smiled and gestured to the chairs. “Sit. Enjoy it.”

Henryk was going to take one of the freestanding chairs, but Gascoigne gently caught his arm and directed him to the loveseat. 

“You scandalize me,” Henryk said, sinking into one side of it. “Me, a humble non-shifter.”

Gascoigne took the other side, resting his hand on Henryk’s thigh. “Oh, were you looking for a proper scandal?”

“Is this what high society people do?” Henryk asked, so very tempted to invite Gascoigne closer. “Fool around in the private viewing sections at the symphony?”

Gascoigne laid his other arm across the back of the seat, smiling at Henryk as warm as summer. “Only the fake ones like me.”

“So we’re both liars, then?” Henryk asked, laying his hand on top of Gascoigne’s, not sure if he should encourage him or not.

Gascoigne drew circles into Henryk’s leg with his index finger. “What a relief.”

“Now who’s teasing who?” Henryk whispered. 

Gascoigne pressed his smile to Henryk’s, moving his hand up to Henryk’s waist. “The music will be starting soon. Can’t be too distracted.”

“I’m fairly good at multitasking,” Henryk said. 

“You  _ are _ looking for a scandal,” Gascoigne chuckled. “Sorry to be so boring. Promise me you’ll give the music a few minutes of proper attention before you try anything.”

“For you,” Henryk said, patting his cheek.

The sound of clicking and then a very muted plucking began to emanate from the stage. Musicians taking their seats and checking their instruments before the show began. A beautiful dark haired woman stood at the conductor’s podium, surveying the people before her. Henryk would have laughed at the novelty of being in such a lovely space, but he couldn’t deny his own intrigue as well. 

“I used to listen to music all the time,” Gascoigne spoke softly. 

Henryk looked at him, and the fondness in his expression. 

“I don’t much care what kind, I just like being surrounded by it,” he went on. “This was the first thing Laurence ever gifted me that I wasn’t confused by. We used to come here all the time. If we were lucky, even Ludwig would join us.” He laughed. “We are an odd family, aren’t we?”

Henryk realized his mistake quite swiftly. This was important to Gascoigne. Something from his youth, something that represented good memories and trust. Family. 

“Ah, here they go,” Gascoigne said. 

Henryk watched the conductor take her place, but his gaze was drawn back to Gascoigne. The man’s eyes slid shut just as a swell of music filled the room. Just a few notes conveyed so much strength and it became the barest hint of a contented smile on Gascoigne’s face. As if the music had soothed him instantly. 

He loved this, and now he was sharing it with Henryk. 

If one could drown peacefully, that was where Henryk found himself in that moment. In over his head, overwhelmed, struggling, and yet… 

He inched closer and leaned his head against Gascoigne’s chest. The shifter rested his hands on Henryk’s body, careful and careless all at once. Henryk closed his eyes as the music took off running. Maybe they were fools, but who was he to pass up this opportunity? They were afforded such few, and there was something marvelous about  _ feeling _ sound passing over him. 

Fingertips lightly trailed along his face. Henryk opened his eyes again, only to feel Gascoigne nuzzle in closer and there was no need to look. They found each other in a kiss and this was a different kind of desperation. One Henryk had been fighting off for a long time now. That kind that hurt his chest because he wasn’t meant for things so soft, but he couldn’t stop all the same. 

The music shifted, churning like a river. Gascoigne pulled away from Henryk just as he felt the sting of something sharp against his mouth. 

“Sorry…” Gascoigne said, touching Henryk’s face. 

Henryk smiled and felt the cut from Gascoigne's tooth rip open. “It’s okay.”

The room went quiet, save for the slow steady beat of a drum. Gascoigne leaned forward, mouth open, and Henryk could see his teeth had shifted to reveal sharpened fangs. Henryk held his breath as Gascoigne licked a droplet of blood from Henryk’s lip. His hands found Henryk’s face and he touched their foreheads together.

“Henryk,” he said. “I can’t thank you enough.”

Henryk shook his head. “No need to thank me.”

“No, I—” Gascoigne held him a little a tighter, sighing with some frustration. “I wanted to give you something nice. I wanted…”

Henryk’s nose was full of the scent of his own blood, but something else was there too. More blood, but not his. That awful smell of decay.

“To tell you…” Gascoigne was still trying to speak, but then he saw Henryk’s expression. “What?”

“Can you smell that?” Henryk asked. 

It was rising up much like the music, reaching through the halls. Putrefaction.

“No,” Gascoigne said. “But your blood might be masking it.”

Henryk stood up and went to the railing, but nothing was out of the ordinary below them or on the stage. It was unmistakable to him, though. The scent of Iosefka’s clinic, only worse because it was here where there should be nothing but life.

“We have to go,” Henryk said, grabbing Gascoigne’s arm.

“What is it?” Gascoigne stood up, all the haze and sweetness gone from him.

“ _ Now _ ,” Henryk insisted, going for the curtains. He took Gascoigne’s arm again, forcing him to follow. “You can’t smell that?” 

“No,” Gascoigne answered as they headed for the exit. “What is it?”

“Death,” Henryk answered. “And it’s getting closer.”

As they reached the front doors to the theater, Gascoigne spoke hurriedly to an usher to lock the doors behind the two of them, by order of the Captain, and to not let anyone leave until he said so. 

Henryk headed outside, taking the stone steps two at a time as he scanned the now empty courtyard, abandoned tables and extinguished candles, but it became all too clear where the smell was coming from. 

Standing in the archway leading to the street beyond, stood a man. He was thin, wearing robes that resembled a professor’s ensemble. The look on his face was that of barely contained glee, but Henryk was distracted by the beast that the man held on a leash beside him. Not a shifter, not a corrupt human, but an actual  _ beast _ from the frontiers, a silver-beast no less. Henryk once had the displeasure of seeing such a creature back in Loran, before he knew how to fight. He’d only managed to get away by being faster. They were mangled, aggressive beasts that usually had no patience, though this one did not strain against the rope that held it.

Henryk wondered, but it didn’t make sense— couldn’t possibly be him.

Gascoigne came to stand beside Henryk, staring the man down. “Micolash.”

Micolash began to clap slowly, eyes shut, body swaying. “Such pretty music for you. I can hear it. Lovely movements. The winds and the strings and—  _ ahh _ .” He opened his eyes, staring at Gascoigne. “My little brother. Yharnam’s Prince. I have come to offer you congratulations.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> took him long enough, huh?


	20. Chapter 20

Micolash was surprisingly unimposing considering they’d spent however long struggling against him. Just a man, after all. It almost comforted Henryk, but that silver beast complicated things.

“ _ Now _ you call me brother,” Gascoigne said, approaching slowly. Henryk made sure to keep pace. “Only took you, what, fifteen years?”

Micolash nodded a few times, considerate, or maybe just a bit manic. “They tried so hard, didn’t they? To make us care. But you and I are oil and water.”

“Did you come down here just to tell me that?” Gascoigne asked. “Hell of a trip just to try to piss me off. Commendable almost, but a letter would have saved you the trouble.”

“You forced my hand, didn’t you?” Micolash asked, smiling wide. 

“We haven’t spoken in years,” Gascoigne said. “How can I force you to do anything?”

“Sending birds after my keep?” Micolash pressed. “Sneaky, sneaky. I wonder if she’s still circling the mountains.”

Henryk said, “she’s fine, actually. Came home the other day.”

Micolash’s head tilted to the side. “Oh? That’s not right at all. The eyes should have stripped everything human from her.”

“You’re not the only one with a few tricks,” Gascoigne said, still advancing slowly. “Why don’t we go back to the Upper Ward and talk about it? You’ve made quite a few interesting discoveries, haven’t you? Things that might be able to help us.”

Micolash gave this delighted laugh. “Yes, yes, so much work to be done. No one here is brave enough to do it. All of you… ” He gestured to his own head, fingers splayed out. “Refuse to see.”

They had closed much of the distance and the beast was the clear point of origin for the foul smell Henryk couldn’t shake. His nose twitched as they drew nearer, and Micolash’s gaze snapped onto Henryk.

“Oh!” He drew in a breath, eyes gone wide. “It’s you. The cat. Yes? The original. The  _ other _ reason I’ve come to the city. Iosefka was so pleased to work on you, but the conditions weren’t ideal, you understand.” He spoke quickly, rushed, as if meeting some idol. “We couldn’t induce every change we wished to study, and her clinic doesn’t have all the proper tools. But I look forward to bringing you home with me and—” He clasped his hands together, giving this dreamy sigh. “Pulling you apart, piece by piece.”

“Think I’ll pass,” Henryk said. 

“I’ll put you back together,” Micolash assured him. “You’ll hardly notice a few tiny cogs missing. Right this way, my most esteemed— well I can’t really call you colleague, you’re so  much more than that.  _ Greater _ .” Micolash gestured as if Henryk was just going to follow along like a lost child. The man’s face fell. “But you won’t come with me, will you? You’ve thrown your lot in with him.” He gestured to Gascoigne. “A stupid animal with no more sense than a common house pet. No, you deserve to be properly studied. Catalogued. The kind of worship only a true scholar could provide.” The words he spoke were disturbing enough without the fervor with which he said them.

“Am I supposed to be flattered?” Henryk asked.

Micolash’s mouth twisted into a smile again and he faced Gascoigne. “You do this being such a disservice. You,  _ you _ , someone I am meant to see as family. What a joke. Have you any idea the greatness that stands beside you?” He pointed to Henryk again.

“Yes, I do,” Gascoigne said. “And I’m not about to let you cut him up.”

Micolash shook his head. “Look at you, playing at knight. This,  _ that _ —” he pointed at Henryk again, even more frantic. “Was here long before abominations like you and I. All we amount to are frail attempts to grasp at that old power. Laurence wouldn’t let me study the source, but not even he knows about this one, does he?”

Henryk had angled his body away to conceal the fact that he was reaching for the throwing knife that he’d brought along in the interior of his jacket. His fingers grazed the handle.

“Father of the wolves,” Micolash went on. “He sits up there all day, denying us access to more. We could be so much more! Even creatures like this…” Micolash gave a fond look to the silver beast. “Can benefit from the blood.” 

“What are you planning?” Gascoigne asked. 

“Me?” Micolash pointed at himself. “It’s not about me. It’s about what comes next. You and I are prototypes, don’t you see? But, with the right tools at our disposal, the  _ next _ of our species will be truly divine. I can see it— a bright future. But you aren’t a part of that, my brutish little brother.” He shook his head. “You and all of Laurence’s little puppets will be the first to go.”

Micolash gave Gascoigne another gleeful smile and Henryk took his chance with a throw. It was a bad angle, but it was the best he could do. Micolash took a heavy step backward as the blade sank into his shoulder. Eyes wild, he touched the pommel of the knife, as if he was only just processing what it was. Slowly, he straightened his back and wrapped his thin fingers around the handle. With a short breath in and a grunt he ripped it from his shoulder. 

“Forcing my hand again,” he said and approached his beast. 

Henryk was not expecting to see Micolash jam the blood stained blade into silver beast’s back. The beast yelped and gnashed its teeth. That awful decaying smell poured from it as its body began to tremble.

“I bet you never thought a beast could shift,” Micolash said, dropping the leash. “Just one of the many things I have discovered. They don’t react quite the same, though. It’s more of a single-use scenario. Shame, really.”

The beast was shifting, yes, but it was nothing like Henryk had ever seen. The poor creature looked like it was being pulled apart and more flesh began to bubble up from within it. 

“Congratulations, Captain,” Micolash said, and dropped into an exaggerated bow. “Your city will look lovely in red.”

The beast screamed.

“Do you have a weapon?” Henryk asked Gascoigne.

“No, but, I have an idea,” Gascoigne said, eyes on the mess of a creature in front of them. It was wailing like it was pain, but the body just kept growing bigger, bones cracking and mending in an instant, building and making room for more mass. “I might be able to coax the wolf back if you shift first.”

Henryk looked at Gascoigne, knowing that if anyone saw them, there would be no explaining this away. Gascoigne caught his eye and smiled. 

“I’ll keep you safe. I promise.” 

There was no time to think. Henryk shifted and leapt up onto Gascoigne’s shoulder, huddling close to the man’s head. 

Gascoigne took his wraps off, brushing Henryk’s fur with the back of his hand. Henryk sank his claws into the shoulders of Gascoigne’s coat for stability as Gascoigne backed away from the shifting creature. Everything about it was wrong, muscle and bone exposed to the night air. Clearly, this body was not meant to be shared. It wasn’t turning into an animal at all, but some disgraceful miasma of body parts stuck together.  

Gascoigne buried his hand into Henryk’s fur, taking a deep breath. “When I shift, get out of here, okay? I just have to put this thing down so it doesn’t hurt anyone. No one needs to know you were here, and I doubt Micolash can do much on his own.”

Henryk couldn’t respond, just made a noise in Gascoigne’s ear. 

“You better run, scholar!” Gascoigne shouted. Micolash had disappeared in the shadow of the growing beast and Henryk couldn’t smell anything over the rancid flesh in front of him. “I might not have enough sense to spare you if I get my claws on you.”

Gascoigne’s hands had shifted and fangs protruded from his mouth. He took a breath in, and Henryk felt his shoulders rising, his body right on the edge of the wolf. 

He spoke quietly to Henryk, voice just barely understandable. “ _ Run _ .”

Henryk jumped from his perch and took off at a sprint for the cover of a pillar at the edge of the plaza they were in. When he turned back to watch, Gascoigne had shifted, but it wasn’t into the wolf. It was that  _ other _ form, the halfway creature between him and the wolf. He stood on hind legs, jaw hanging open as he breathed hard, only some of his clothes still clinging to his body. 

The silver-beast, now reborn into something far more awful, was so huge and heavy that it could barely move, but that didn’t stop it from trying. It dragged its body forward with several misshapen legs, like a bulbous insect made of flesh. One of its new spindly arms slashed at the ground where Gascoigne stood.

He was fast, though, leaping out of the way to take a stab with claws at the creature’s midsection. Henryk was debating making a break for his own discarded clothes, knowing there was another knife hidden in his boot, but that would involve shifting again amidst the chaos. He’d at least be able to evade easier if he stayed in shift. But, he couldn’t  _ help _ like this either, and it drove him mad. He couldn’t stand sitting on the sidelines while Gascoigne took the hits. This monstrous thing was completely unpredictable and Micolash could be anywhere at all. They were at such a disadvantage not being able to smell clearly. He needed height to get a good view of this place. Henryk could see stone balconies overlooking the plaza and figured that was a good place to start.

The monster flailed about, knocking tables and chunks of cobblestone around like a child throwing a tantrum as Gascoigne tried repeatedly just to get close enough to do any damage. The monster came close to catching Gascoigne with a swipe, but Gascoigne caught the monster’s limb, breaking it like a twig. Blood sprayed into the air, but it didn’t even seem to notice, just came at Gascoigne with another.

Henryk was getting ready to make a run for the stairs up to the stone balconies when he heard a scuffle of stone behind him. He turned to see a woman approaching him, dressed in the robes of a clinician, her eyes covered in some kind of mask. But she smelled familiar. 

“Here, here,” she said softly, brandishing a needle. 

_ Iosefka _ . Henryk darted away from her, seeking better shelter, only to be stopped in his tracks by a hunk of stone cast aside by the beast. Henryk came to a skittering halt, trying to get a better idea of where to go, when Iosefka actually  _ hissed _ behind him. 

“Careful, mum.”

Henryk stopped dead and turned to see Brador wrestling with Iosefka. 

“Not nice to run about with sharps,” Brador said, taking her wrist to try to stab her with her own syringe. She dropped the needle to take a swing at Brador. He laughed, spinning her around like they were dancing and pulled out a small club from inside his coat.

“You don’t think I’d let you have all the fun, huh?” Brador shouted, clearly for Henryk. “Now do as the good man said and run!”

Henryk didn’t wait, just took off for some other relative safety. Gascoigne and the beast had pushed closer to the center of the plaza, their fight haphazard at best. Henryk figured the smartest thing to do was head for the theater entrance. Judging from the way Gascoigne kept trying to get between the monster and the doors, he was probably trying to protect the people inside. 

Henryk could skirt around the fight, hug the walls and stay in shadow. It was a mad dash towards the doors, but again, his shift felt off— inexplicably clumsy. His paws felt awkward, and he actually stumbled as he heard a horrific cry from behind him. 

The beast was spewing some kind of foul liquid across the ground. It seemed that the more holes Gascoigne put into the monsters, the less it was able to handle this awful shift. The fluid smelled like death itself. Gascoigne was either too distracted ripping chunks of the beast apart, or he simply didn’t care to notice as he scattered more viscera across the ground. He didn’t seem hurt, but he was mindlessly hacking away and it was hard to tell if the blood on his chest was his or the monster’s. A glance behind Henryk confirmed that Brador was still on both feet, though he too had partially shifted, his antlers clearly visible from a distance as he took a swing at Iosefka. 

The beast shuddered like it was dissolving under the weight of its own corrupted body. Henryk wanted to tell Gascoigne to stop, that he’d risk getting himself covered in whatever awful liquid that was, but as he stepped forward, the creature gave another twitch of a hind limb, catching Gascoigne in the middle and sending him careening into a stone column on the other side of the plaza.

Henryk’s heart jumped into his throat as the column rained a few chunks of stone down onto Gascoigne. There was a snarl as one caught the shifter’s leg. Gascoigne was struggling to try to get out from under a large block, and Henryk took off running toward him. 

As he sprinted, carefully avoiding the foul smelling liquid and the violent death throes of the beast, Henryk saw Micolash emerge from behind the pillar where Gascoigne was pinned. He began to circle the trapped shifter, just out of reach of Gascoigne’s claws, fiddling with something in his hands. 

“This form… ” Micolash spoke reverently. “How did an animal like you manage communion?” 

Henryk ran as fast as he could, feeling like he was shifting, but no, he was still animal— he was just furious. Micolash wasn’t allowed to win. He wasn’t allowed to be so smug, and he certainly wasn’t allowed to hurt Gascoigne. Not while Henryk lived.

“I’ll just take a sample.” Micolash removed a scalpel and syringe. Henryk was almost there, drowning all over again at the thought that this man might hurt Gascoigne, drowning in emotions that he hadn’t dared to put words to, but the sheer weight of it was changing him, his mind, his heart, his entire body. “Then I’ll put you out of your misery.”

Henryk closed the distance, heart thundering loudly. He’d shifted again somehow. He wasn’t human though. He was the same, but more. When he bite down on Micolash, his jaws closed around the man’s entire shoulder, teeth ripping through robes and his skin alike. 

Micolash screamed this time and tried to shake Henryk off, but there was so much weight to him now. All Micolash could do was shift into his wolf to break free. They both tumbled to the stones as Micolash went from two legs to four. Micolash’s wolf was grey and scrawny in comparison to Gascoigne’s. But the first thing Henryk noticed was how their eyes were level as they stared at each other. The wolf snapped at Henryk, edging toward Gascoigne.

When Henryk went to answer, his voice came out a roar. Micolash’s ears went flat, but Henryk wasn’t there to play games. He pounced, this new body so much more powerful. His teeth sank into Micolash’s neck, and the wolf yelped and buckled under the weight of the large cat. He hit the ground and rolled, trying to shake Henryk off. 

If Henryk hadn’t been so unused to this new larger body, he would have held on tighter, but Micolash’s wild flailing managed to separate them and as Henryk got back to his feet, Micolash took off running full tilt toward the street. Henryk thought to give chase, but, no, Gascoigne needed him. He went back to Gascoigne and leaned his shoulder into the stone that pinned him and Gascoigne pushed with both hands. Finally, he was able to get his leg free, but it was a bloody mess.

Henryk padded over to Gascoigne, despite the wild look in his eyes. Gascoigne stared back, his breathing finally settling. He looked roughed up, and he was bleeding from a couple different spots across his arms and chest. There was no doubt that some of that liquid had gotten onto Gascoigne’s wounds. Henryk was staring at his chest, concern taking shape as he wondered what the hell kind of poison it was, when he felt a hand weakly placed on his head.

Gascoigne opened his mouth and that roughed up voice just barely reached him. “ _ Go _ .”

Henryk just pressed in closer, shaking his head. Gascoigne’s was trying to push Henryk away, but he was far too tired.

“The doctor slipped away, sorry! Snakes are tricky. You two alright?” Brador approached, antlers still protruding from his shaggy hair, but his eyes went wide when he saw Gascoigne. “Good heavens! Is that the Captain?”

Henryk shot Brador a look and licked Gascoigne’s face as a show of safety. Brador braved a few steps closer. “Just because he’s nice to you doesn’t mean he’ll be nice to me.”

Henryk wanted to roll his eyes. He sat beside Gascoigne, their sides touching, and watched Brador. Brador shrugged. “You’re a might more fierce in that body anyway.” Henryk knew he must be bigger, but he wasn’t sure by how much. Brador’s brow furrowed as he studied Gascoigne. “He smells like poison in bad way.” When he looked at the shifter’s leg, all he could muster was a breath sucked in through his teeth. 

Henryk looked back to Gascoigne who appeared to be bracing himself against the stones. He breathed hard again, brushing his knuckles against Henryk’s fur before turning onto his side and shifting fully into the wolf. Blood dripped from his white fur, and his back leg looked completely busted, hanging uselessly. The wolf gave a tired sort of bark before he laid down on the ground, panting.

Brador came closer and put his hand on Henryk’s back. “Whatever that thing was, it’s got your boy in bad shape. Can hardly smell anything else over the poison. I’ll get him some help but you should get out of here while you can.”

Henryk shifted again to a smaller size and stood over Gascoigne’s neck, staring back at Brador, hoping the message was clear. 

Brador stood and chuckled. “Alright, then, make your stand. Suppose now’s as good a time as any.”

Henryk hissed at him.

“Alright, alright,” Brador said, reaching into his jacket. “Don’t have to be rude.”

The man produced a bell from inside his jacket, which he began to ring. For such a small instrument, the sound it made was inexplicably loud and clear, echoing down the streets. Brador stood still after three rings, poised, listening to the silence. It lasted only a moment before, somewhere in the distance, another bell answered him. 

“They’ll be here soon,” Brador said to Henryk. 

Henryk just pressed his face to the wolf’s cheek. The wolf whined quietly in response. It nearly broke Henryk to hear such a sad sound from him. It was true that it was probably smarter to leave now and keep up the lie, but Henryk couldn’t stand to walk away from Gascoigne like this. Not while Micolash and Iosefka were still around and the wolf was helpless. He wouldn’t leave. He couldn’t. They were in this together, bound by something Henryk didn’t yet understand, but made him feel like he needed to stay with Gascoigne as long as he could. 

The wolf groaned, trembling, and Henryk nuzzled his face to the wolf’s neck. It seemed to soothe the wounded creature, and even though Henryk wished he could speak, he felt like whatever bound them was stronger in shift. Maybe he could help Gascoigne like this. Maybe Henryk could give back some of that energy he took.

Henryk refused to leave Gascoigne’s side even as men in uniform began to show up in the plaza where they were. Brador waved them a bunch of them over, immediately arranging for medical care before reporting to a lanky man with an odd voice and a bow and arrow on his back. He wore wraps over a chunk of his face.

“What the hell is that?” the man asked, pointing to the now half-melted corpse of the silver-beast reborn. 

Brador put his hands in his pockets. “Simon, my love, I cannot even begin to explain this one to you. I’m afraid I missed the beginning of the performance.”

“For the love of all that is holy, Brador, do not speak to me like that.” The man, Simon, stuck one of his hands in his hair. “I don’t understand how you manage to find yourself in these situations… How is the Captain?”

Brador gestured to the wolf. “Snapped leg and nasty poison of some sort. Tell your men to be mindful of that liquid around the body.”

“Is that… a cat?” Simon asked, taking a step closer to Henryk and Gascoigne.

Brador gave a laugh. “The Captain has a friend. Best not to separate them.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Simon asked.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Brador asked, eyes bright like he was used to giving this man shit. 

“You  _ always _ look like you’re joking. Can the Captain shift or not?”

Henryk stayed close to Gascoigne as Simon approached. 

“Not with that leg,” Brador said. “He’s best to stay in shift if you ask me.”

Simon waved a hand at Henryk, but Henryk held his spot right by the wolf’s neck. 

“Seriously,” Brador said. “Let the cat stay.”

Simon’s mouth went thin as a line. “Let’s get him out of here. Is anyone else involved?”

“Might want to keep the pretty spectators inside the theater for a bit longer,” Brador said. “Captain managed to contain the disaster, but you-know-who is running about and he’s got a little snake friend with him.”

Simon leaned down to Gascoigne. “We’ll get you out of here, sir.”

The wolf just huffed. 

Simon looked at Henryk again and made to wave him away like a fruit fly, but Gascoigne snapped at him. Simon jumped back to his feet. 

“Ludwig didn’t say anything about a cat,” Simon muttered.

Brador smiled. “What Ludwig doesn’t know won’t kill him.”

“It might kill the Captain,” Simon said, deadpan. 

“What, you think the cat’s got fleas?” Brador retorted with a grin. “That’s a person in there, idiot. A person that saved the Captain’s life, mind you.”

“That’s supposed to be  _ your _ job,” Simon said, arms folded. “You were assigned tonight for a reason.”

“Snakes.” Brador shrugged. “Hard to juggle. Forgive me.”

A team of men swooped in with a stretcher. It took a lot of them to carefully lift the wolf, mindful of his leg and the open wounds. Henryk leapt up onto the stretcher to keep his place by the wolf’s face. The men gave him looks, but he ignored them. It felt like he and Gascoigne were tied by some invisible thread that grew stronger the longer they were touching.

They brought the wolf to the nearest hospital. A couple more people tried to get Henryk to leave, but he and the wolf were spirited enough in their protests that eventually the nurses gave up and let him stay. Brador outright lied and began telling people that Henryk was under the Captain’s employ, under Ludwig’s employ, one of  _ Laurence’s very own personal valet’s _ .

Henryk watched them inject the wolf with various medicines, covering all their bases with potential antidotes. The wolf lost consciousness somewhere along the way and they began to deal with his shattered leg. Henryk ached as they stuck pins into him to try to get the limb back into its proper position. Eventually, Henryk just turned his head away, focusing on the sound of the wolf’s breathing to try to stay calm. 

When they had done all they could do for him, they brought the unconscious wolf to a room where he could rest. His ‘bed’ amounted to a large table with thin padding and a sheet spread across it. Once they were set up, Brador came back in, claiming he was meant to keep watch over the Captain. He waited until the room was empty to approach the wolf and the cat.

“I don’t envy him,” Brador said, looking at the sleeping wolf. “Or you. You’ve always been able to smell even better than I can and he does not seem himself.”

Brador faced Henryk and took a breath. “Sorry for not being completely honest. You see, I am working for Ludwig, but my job has actually been to keep an eye on Gascoigne. I’ve been a bit under cover. Fancy that. Me! Discreet.” Brador laughed for a moment, and then shook his head. “Of course, I was waiting outside the theater in case anything happened tonight. Can’t say I was expecting the man himself to show up. Bold move. I’m worried he’s even less stable than anyone thinks. That being said… something’s up with him, too, yes?” Brador nodded at Gascoigne. “His shift? That’s not normal.”

Henryk leaned past Brador to see how alone they were. He didn’t want to shift in such a high traffic place. 

“Nurse could come in at any moment,” Brador said, as if reading his mind. “Listen. One paw up for yes. Is that form dangerous?”

Henryk kept his paws down.

“Is he capable of thought when he’s like that?” Brador pressed.

Henryk lifted a paw up. 

“He recognizes you, at least?” 

Another paw up.

“Has he always been able to do that?” 

Henryk stayed still for  _ no _ . 

“New… like, say, since this last full moon?” Brador ventured.

Henryk lifted a paw, eyes narrowed.

Brador put his owns hands in his pockets and glanced at the wolf. “You know, I see it as a personal failure that I never really got to talk to you about what it means for shifters to be together. I think I just assumed you wouldn’t risk it.”

Henryk watched Brador’s expression carefully. There was some softness to it that he couldn’t place. 

Brador looked back at Henryk. “I am happy for you. I want you to have something good, for once. I worry, though, that your man is scared.”

Henryk tilted his head to the side. 

Brador grinned suddenly. “I dreamed of the day I could tease you about a silly crush or some other nonsense, but you had to go and ruin the fun for me by skipping straight to the hard stuff, huh?”

Henryk wanted to sigh in frustration at his rambling, meowing softly instead. 

“Let me backup,” Brador said. “Do you know the phrase ‘to pass the moon’?”

Henryk kept his paws down, going still. 

“Didn’t think so,” Brador went on. “It’s more of a Yharnam thing, and it’s even more of a wolf thing. I learned about it when I came here on a visit years ago. It’s funny how they talk about it so quietly because it’s such a delicate thing for them, and yet, they can’t help but bring it up because it’s something they all want. But only shifters talk about it to other shifters. They only really tell non’s about it when they have to.” 

Henryk wanted to tell him to get on with the definition already. 

Brador folded his arms across his chest. “You know how it goes. Wolves are even more sensitive to the moon. But we all are, in our ways. There’s a reason we usually isolate ourselves over the full. It’s not just the risk of the animal taking over. It’s also when we want the most, and when we have the least amount of self control. On the other side, we get more upset when things don’t go our way. 

“Passing the moon is usually what you call it when two shifters decide to spend the full moon together. It’s a test, really. Only strong bonds can survive that. All it takes is one bad moment, and two humans who thought the world of each other will try to rip each other’s throats out in shift. Try as you might, a bond can only go so deep when your animal doesn’t care for someone else’s. Some couples never risk it, you know? Why bother, if you can afford to stay separate? If there’s any part of you that doesn’t trust your animal, it’s better safe than sorry. But… asking to stay with someone. Making that move when it’s still new and when he’s had a history of struggle with his wolf.”

Brador gave another chuckle. “That’s something, lad. But, my guess is that he hasn’t said any of this to you. You’re not exactly like other shifters, he’s not exactly your average wolf. But, even if the man walked away from you for whatever reason, that wolf will probably be loyal to you forever. That’s the risk you run, sharing both sides of yourself like that. It happens sometimes, when a person wants one thing and the animal wants another. And, wolves are loyal to a fault, they say.”

That tightness was back in Henryk’s chest. He looked down at the sleeping wolf and remembered the way that Gascoigne had been speaking to him during the symphony. 

They’d really gone too far, hadn’t they?

“I’m only telling you this because… well, I wish I’d told you sooner. What kind of brother am I, huh? Don’t say what you’re thinking. I know what I am.” Brador sighed, still kind of smiling. “But I want you to have all the facts. Passing the moon is a big deal for a wolf even when the only thing at stake is your relationship, but you and I both know that you’re not a run of the mill shifter. Seems like something you’d do well to sort out sooner than later.”

Henryk knew Brador was right, especially considering Micolash’s reaction to him, but that was something to worry about  _ after _ Gascoigne was healed.

Brador glanced behind him once. “Ludwig will probably be down soon to check in on the big guy. I can get you out of here now if you want.”

Henryk gave his answer as he curled up underneath the wolf’s throat.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” Brador said. “I’ll do what I can for you, but that probably won’t amount to much. Should I leave or do you want some company? I could tell you a story or two. My god, Henryk, the things I’ve seen. Did you know there are shifters on the coast who turn into fish? The biggest fucking fish you’ve ever seen.”

Henryk sat up and batted Brador’s arm with his paw, latching a nail into his sleeve.

Brador smiled. “I’m not lying. Can I sit?” 

Henryk nodded. 

Brador pulled up a chair from across the room. “Where shall I begin?” 

He propped one of his feet up on the edge of the bed and scratched his head. He began to tell Henryk about the years between his visits. Henryk wasn’t exactly surprised to hear how many places Brador had been to, but it was different to finally know. Brador said he felt lucky to have his animal.  _ Made it easier just to walk wherever I wanted. Hooves don’t get tired the same way feet do. And he doesn’t get very hungry, lucky bastard. _ Henryk used to tease Brador about being a deer, until he got tired of hearing how proud he was to be a buck and how they were very rare did you know and his antlers were unique and on and on it went. 

“Thing is, I’ve got this tendency to want to be around others,” Brador said at one point. “Apparently that’s a thing with us, deer and bucks. We want family more than anything. I was a real cad to you, I know it. But I think maybe I did it because I was afraid that once you realized how fucked I was as a person, you’d leave and that’d be that. You’re the one I’ve known longest. The only person I keep coming back to. And you were lonely, too. Maybe you didn’t say it, but I saw it.”

Brador’s eyes lit up a little. “This time was different, though. I could tell how much more lively you were. Was like a slap in the face, but in a good way, you know? Like, oh shit, he doesn’t need me, does he? So, what the hell do I do now? Get a fucking job and move on. Protect you if I can. Maybe we can be friends again one day. Have a good tussle like we used to.”

Henryk was watching Brador with his head resting on the wolf’s neck, listening intently both to Brador’s talk and to Gascoigne’s breathing and heartbeat. Henryk made a little groaning noise at the mention of ‘tussles’. 

“I bet you’d kick my ass three ways to church,” Brador said, brow raised. “Maybe not then. Especially with that shift, is that new? The big cat? You were huge, Hen, I’ve never seen a cat that big  _ or _ that intimidating.”

Henryk dipped his head to say  _ yes, it is very new _ .

Brador whistled. “Well, things are moving and shaking, hm?”

A knock at the door drew Brador’s gaze. He rose to his feet, straightening his jacket as Ludwig entered the room. 

“Sir,” Brador said. 

Ludwig shut the door behind him and gave a long sigh. “These men, Brador, I swear. They will be the death of me.”

Brador offered a weak smile. “Isn’t the family you choose supposed to be the one that makes life easier?”

Ludwig walked over, placing a heavy hand on Brador’s shoulder. “Thank you for being there tonight. Your hunch was correct. How is he?”

Brador tapped his nose, keeping himself between Ludwig and Henryk. “Far as I can smell, the poison is easing up, but a friend of mine recently took some wicked poison that’s probably of the same caliber and he was out for three days. My guess is the wolf will be down for at least—”

Henryk felt the wolf stir beneath him and backed up a bit. He watched Gascoigne shift back to human and give a groan.

“Oh,” Brador said. 

Ludwig stepped over, gaze zeroing in on Henryk. “Is that the cat… that Gascoigne keeps at his house?”

Brador tongued at one of his teeth. “About that.”

Ludwig narrowed his eyes at Brador. “You’re certainly not about to tell me that you made a stop at the Captain’s house and broke inside to retrieve a pet to bring to the hospital.”

“I… would never… say such a thing,” Brador said and Henryk was almost surprised to see him buckle so quickly beneath Ludwig’s gaze, but he didn’t blame him either. 

“Who is it?” Ludwig demanded.

Gascoigne coughed, turning his face from Henryk to spit blood onto the sheets, and then a full body tremor swept over him. Ludwig and Brador both started at the sudden noise. 

“My… leg…” Gascoigne’s voice was hoarse and strained. 

Everyone turned to look at Gascoigne’s calf, the pins that had been put into it now laying bloodied on the bed. The shift seemed to have ejected the foreign objects from his body.

“That’s not good,” Brador mumbled. “Shall I grab the doctor?”

Gascoigne forced himself onto his back again. “No. I think it’s fine.”

“You’re bleeding,” Ludwig said. “Don’t be foolish.”

Gascoigne breathed in heavily, eyes sliding shut. “Well, fine, but don’t put those things back. Fucking painful.”

“On it,” Brador quickly left the room. 

Ludwig looked at the cat again. “Gascoigne.”

“Hm?” the man asked, chest rising and falling in deep swells. 

“Laurence has requested that you finish healing in the Upper Ward,” Ludwig said. “He’s worried that trouble keeps finding you.”

Gascoigne nodded. “Micolash sends his regards.”

Ludwig’s gaze went to the window across the way. Brador and the doctor came back in, and, after quickly bandaging the new holes in Gascoigne’s skin, the doctor gave a weary affirmation that his leg had nearly healed and the pins weren’t necessary anymore. 

“I’ve never seen someone heal a break that quickly,” he added. “Not even a wolf.”

Ludwig nodded. “Yes, thank you. Is he well enough to be transfered?”

“I can’t speak for what that poison might be doing to him, but as long as he’s moved slowly and carefully, he seems to be steadily fighting it off.”

Ludwig dismissed him and gave Brador a look. “Take the cat home.”

Brador turned to Henryk and extended his arms. “You heard the man.”

Henryk looked at Gascoigne once more, not ready to separate from him when that feeling of connection was still alive. Gascoigne reached a heavy hand up to touch Henryk’s back. He pressed his face to Henryk’s chest, kissing him softly and said just loud enough for Henryk, “ _ Promise _ .”

“It’s time,” Ludwig’s voice was full of exhaustion. He made eye contact with Henryk. “I will deal with you later. Unless you want to shift now and explain yourself, but I doubt you do.” 

Gascoigne dropped his hand from Henryk’s back, too tired to keep it up. Though it pained him worse than anything, Henryk went to Brador and jumped onto the man’s shoulder. Even such a small distance felt like it weakened the connection.  


Ludwig caught Henryk’s eye once more. “Count yourself lucky that I am more concerned with Gascoigne’s health than whatever it is you are up to at this very moment. I will not be so patient the next time we talk. Now go.”

Brador hurried from the room. There wasn’t even time to speak to Gascoigne. Henryk couldn’t say any of the words that had finally taken shape. Obvious words, but necessary ones. Ones that would grow barbed the longer he went without saying them. 

_ I’ll keep you safe. I promise. _

Brador muttered an apology to Henryk once they were outside. “Sorry, friend.”

Henryk held tight to Brador the whole way home. It was all he could do to keep himself together as the invisible thread that tied him to the wolf unraveled.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another boss down


	21. Chapter 21

Brador brought Henryk back home and asked if he could stay. Henryk wasn’t sure he wanted to speak anymore, wasn’t sure he could, but after he let Brador inside, the man just told him to take a seat.

“You’ve had quite a day,” Brador said. “How about some eggs? I haven’t forgotten how to make them. That was probably the one thing from that damn house that I take pains to remember. I used to be pretty good at this, yeah?”

Henryk sat at the kitchen table, only half listening as Brador began to make some food. Mostly, he was focusing on trying not to panic. Ludwig knew enough to put the pieces together, and something told him that Gascoigne wouldn’t be able to lie to Ludwig after all this. Which, of course, meant that it was only a matter of time before the Commander came back and  _ dealt _ with Henryk. And it really wouldn’t have scared him so much if it weren’t for the fact that Henryk worried for Gascoigne’s health.

Brador set a plate in front of Henryk. “They’re not gonna hurt you.”

Henryk blinked, looking up at him.

“Ludwig knows well enough that’s he’s screwed, which is probably why he’s so angry. If they do anything to you, Gascoigne won’t stand for it. So, they’ll reach some kind of agreement to keep you out of any harm. That much I’m sure of.”

Henryk took a shaky breath. “I don’t care about pain.”

Brador sank down into the chair beside him. “I know, Henryk. And I’m sorry, but all I can do is make you a plate of eggs and that doesn’t feel very helpful at all, but you probably need to eat something. Least I can do is keep you on your feet.”

It took Henryk a minute to fully let the words penetrate his brain. It did not stop the water pooling up in his eyes, but he ate the meal that Brador made for him and it  _ was _ as good as he remembered from that house in Loran. 

Henryk didn’t want to state the obvious. He didn’t want to ask questions that he couldn’t handle the answer to. And he most certainly didn’t want to admit how broken he felt, but none of that prevented him from looking at Brador and saying with a ragged voice, “what if that was the last time I ever see him?”

Brador drew Henryk into a hug. Henryk was struggling to keep his breathing normal, fighting for calm and sanity when the scent of Brador’s own animal reached through to him. It was a scent that Henryk used to know so well, and one he was sure he would never forget, but something about it was different— tinged with another scent like it was burnt at the edges somehow.

Henryk pulled away sharply. “Are you—you didn’t—Brador!”

The man pulled a face, hand on his neck. “Can you tell?”

“How long?” Henryk asked. He gripped Brador’s chin and stared into his eyes, searching for the obvious signs.

Brador squirmed in Henryk’s grip. “Couple of months now, I think. Part of why I came to this fine city of medicine.”

Henryk let him go, not seeing the collapsed pupils, but still suspicious. “When were you going to tell me?”

“It’s not exactly something you spring on a man, least of all someone you’re trying not to inconvenience ever again,” Brador began, but when he saw Henryk’s eyes flash with anger, he threw his hands up in surrender. “I’m in a trial. A  _ real _ one, not like Iosefka’s bullshit. I promise. I didn’t want to tell you until I knew that it was… hopeless or not.”

Henryk grit his teeth, breathed in and let it go again. “I’d hit you, but I prefer not to fight sick people. Feels unfair.”

Brador smiled. “That’s a real sign of maturity, you know?”

Henryk just leaned his head against Brador’s shoulder and sighed, “shut the fuck up.”

Brador pat his head. “You know I can’t do that.”

Despite it all, Henryk laughed. “Are you actually pulling that  _ I’m dying so I’ll make amends  _ bullshit that people always dramatize in novels?”

“When you say it like that, I really look like an asshole, don’t I?” Brador asked. “For the record, I’m not dying yet. It’s not that far along. The sickness works in mysterious ways and it’s taking its time with me. I’ve managed to hang onto most of what makes me so charming. Only now I have the added bonus of being able to smell the sickness on other people  _ and _ shifters have a much harder time smelling me at all. Ludwig finds that trick quite useful.”

Henryk scoffed. “I’ll bet he does.”

Brador chuckled. “I know he seems like your enemy right now, but he is about the smartest man I’ve ever met. Gotta hand him some credit as my boss. Not to mention, he and Laurence are behind the trials I’m in.”

Henryk picked his head back up, feeling heavier than ever. “Should I do anything to prepare for them? Or should I just go to the Upper Ward and turn myself in?”

“I think you should go to bed,” Brador said with a smile. “Let Gascoigne speak his piece to Ludwig before you do anything at all. Those two clearly have a lot to say to each other. But, Henryk, you look tired. Get some sleep, please.”

Henryk didn’t particularly want to, but he was exhausted, he had to admit. This night had certainly taken it out of him. 

“I can be your guard dog for the night, if ya like,” Brador said. 

“Thank you,” Henryk said. He shuffled toward his room, stopping to tell Brador, “You _ are _ an asshole, Brador, but I’m glad you’re here tonight.”

“Hey! I’ve won him back,” Brador said with a grin. “I knew I had it in me.”

Henryk rolled his eyes, hiding his smile as he walked away. 

He was not looking forward to being alone with his thoughts, and he prayed for sleep to take him quickly. Sleeping in a tangle of the remaining clean blankets on his torn up mattress, his mind was full of worst case scenarios and his body ached in a new way, possibly from the new shift, possibly from the fear that was gripping him. 

All he wanted was to make sure that Gascoigne was okay. He worried more and more that by separating from him, he’d severed some kind of healing connection. What if Gascoigne got worse and Henryk didn’t even know about it? 

When Henryk finally found sleep, his dream was odd. He didn’t usually have such a vivid feeling while he slept, but this was alarmingly real. Not the lush forest he was in or the strange twilight haze over the sky, but he was so aware of his own body. He was in shift which was no surprise, but at last he recognized the feel of this new form. He had dreamed of this shift before, this powerful creature with paws the size of a human’s head. He’d been dreaming about it his whole life, but always in murky, half-remembered dreams that faded from memory too quickly. 

Henryk walked through grass, slowly at first, taking stock of this body. As he became aware of every new muscle, he began to run. There was no destination, just the desire to push and go farther than he ever could. Soon enough he was sprinting and it almost felt like freedom, but it was tainted. 

This dream was painfully empty. 

He came to a stop, cursing his own mind for failing to cure the loneliness even in his dreams. As he was thinking it, he heard a harsh breath and his body tensed. Fear pulsed through him and forced him to climb the nearest tree, which he did so with ease thanks to these new strong paws. He found a thick branch to lay across, surveying the woods around him for the source of the noise.

Something snapped, twigs breaking, and Henryk lifted his head. The white wolf slipped into view, nose to the ground, padding forward like he was on something’s trail. He paused at the base of the tree, scanning the distance. 

All at once, Henryk forgot he was dreaming. He let his long tail hang from the branch, swinging like the pendulum of a clock. The wolf saw the line of black swaying, and the wolf’s own tail began to swish in excitement. He backed up a step, sinking his chest down to the ground, his hind legs still up, poised. 

The wolf leapt for Henryk’s tail and Henryk snapped it out of reach, anticipation sending pleasant goosebumps down his body. The wolf spun around, empty handed, and spotted Henryk laying in the tree. He barked, tail fully wagging now. 

_ Come down _ .

Henryk leapt to the ground, this height which would have troubled the small cat, now handled with ease. Standing in front of the wolf, Henryk couldn’t describe the satisfaction he felt at being so much closer in size. Henryk stepped over and the wolf made a quiet sort of noise, lowering his head. He let Henryk close the distance, making these soft murmuring sounds as Henryk pressed their faces together. The wolf leaned into him as Henryk passed by, their bodies still touching. He circled the wolf once before facing him again. The wolf lifted a paw to bring Henryk closer. 

They laid together with Henryk’s back against the wolf’s chest, his tail twined around the wolf’s leg. Henryk offered his face and neck to the wolf. The dream felt more and more real as the wolf nuzzled in close, occasionally licking him. It was easy to think that this was actually Gascoigne, and not a figment of Henryk’s imagination, especially when he felt a nip at his ear, just the way Gascoigne always did to him.

Henryk turned so he could rest his face against the wolf’s chest, wanting to hear his heartbeat. The wolf kept him close.

He wasn’t sure at what point the warmth of the wolf’s body became his own blankets and pillows bundled up around him. Henryk woke up and the wounds ripped right open. 

Gascoigne was sick, locked away from Henryk, and Ludwig undoubtedly knew about them by now.

_ Pain _ didn’t do the feeling in his chest any justice. 

 

-

 

The trip from Yahar’Gul to the Upper Ward was a blur of misery and nausea. Gascoigne was hazy, unaware of whether he was speaking any of the thoughts that were deliriously springing into his head, not the least of which included a request to remove his stomach from his body in the hopes that he’d stop vomiting. And, of course, a few threats leveled at Ludwig each time Gascoigne remembered that it was  _ his _ fault that he was being moved at all. Ludwig did not dignify his remarks with any response beyond a sigh or a shake of his head. As soon as they got Gascoigne to the Highest House, Laurence’s personal physician began to do what he could. Gascoigne had undoubtedly taken a turn for the worse as soon as Brador had carried Henryk out of his hospital room, but there was no use in complaining about that now. 

He couldn’t get many words out at that point anyway. 

Ludwig had hoped that Gascoigne would start improving again when they finally put him in a bed in the Upper Ward, but it didn’t help at all. If anything, he got worse as the pain in his leg flared up on top of the poison coursing through him. It felt like shards of glass running through veins and organs, tearing everything apart. Everyone else had stepped out of the room while the doctor worked, injecting Gascoigne with this or that in any attempt to put out the fire, binding his leg and attempting to soothe the fever that was beginning to take hold. When the doctor finally exhausted his options, he brought Ludwig back inside to give them both the update on where his treatment stood (dismally) before offering Gascoigne a sedative, to which Ludwig interjected, “Not yet. He and I need to talk for a moment.”

Gascoigne grit his teeth to stop himself from begging the doctor for it anyway. When they were alone, Ludwig crossed his arms behind his back.

“Where shall we start?” he asked.

Gascoigne struggled through harsh breaths to find the words. “How about—” He gasped through a tightness in his leg. “The part where I asked you—” It felt like it was eating at his nerve endings. “To send me to war—” His vision blurred with the pain. “So I didn’t have to  _ fucking _ get married.”

Ludwig merely appeared to him as this imposing, smartly dressed silhouette. “Here we thought you wanted a purpose.”

“I wanted out of a betrothal to a stranger,” Gascoigne said. The pain was only ratcheting up and he felt a desperate desire to shift, but the wolf had been shut off from him again. That distance had only been bridged because of Henryk and now the cat and the man were far away. “Maybe it works for other people…” Gascoigne breathed deep. “But not for me.”

“Gehrman came to me while the doctor was working,” Ludwig said. “He said you told him that you and the wolf had made peace over something. That is news to me.”

“Irrelevant news,” Gascoigne snapped. “If you just want an update, it can wait until this is over. Please put me to sleep, I can’t stand this.”

“Shifting should ease the pain,” Ludwig said, words sharp. 

Gascoigne nearly growled at him. “I can’t.”

“Why?” Ludwig asked, eyes ever so slightly narrowed. “I thought you two were on better terms now.”

“I don’t know,” Gascoigne said, his resolve wearing away with every aching moment spent under Ludwig’s withering gaze. “He needs rest. I pushed him too far.”

“You’ve never needed such a long time to heal after the full,” Ludwig said. “You’ve never complained about the wolf refusing to surface. In the past, you have denied him, but he has never denied you. Why is it different this time, hm? What did you  _ do _ , Gascoigne?”

“I passed the moon with someone!” Gascoigne barked.

Ludwig’s face processed the shock in just an instant before resetting to neutral. 

Gascoigne steeled himself against another strong desire to vomit, despite his empty stomach. He shut his eyes and spoke slowly.

“I tried to stay away, I really did, but it was hopeless.” Gascoigne told him. “The wolf is too loyal and I…” Gascoigne’s skin was going cold and clammy, and yet his head was far too hot. He opened his eyes again, but all he saw was black, black, and just a flash of a white tipped tail. “It changed us. I can’t let you hurt him.”

Ludwig sighed. “There is no point in punishing the wolf.”

“Not the wolf,” Gascoigne said, voice tired and heavy. “He’s not like us. He’s not a shifter at all, he’s something else. Something new, or, maybe very old.” Gascoigne wasn’t sure anymore if he was still talking aloud, or if Ludwig was even there to listen at all. “I made…” Sleep threatened, a dream coaxing him back to the wolf. “a promise…”  _ Let’s run,  _ the wolf offered.  _ I know where to find him.  _

 

-

 

When Henryk dragged himself out of bed, a chill clung to his skin and he pulled a blanket around his shoulders before going out to the living room. Brador was up, splayed out on the couch with a book in his hand.

“Sunshine,” he said, looking up at Henryk. “Don’t worry, your castle is still standing. No one came scratching in the night.”

As much as Henryk hurt, he was grateful that Brador refused to meet him in his misery. “I think I need to warn my boss about what’s going on.”

Brador rolled his eyes. “Heaven’s sake, stop working for five minutes.”

Henryk shook his head. “Too much going on right now. He needs to know.”

“I’ll go with you,” Brador said. “How about that?”

Henryk eyed him. “Something tells me you’d follow even if I told you not to.”

“Ah, he’s learning.” Brador smiled, jumping up from the couch. 

Henryk got ready quickly, and the two of them headed outside. He did want to talk to Valtr, but he needed to check something first— just to be sure that his theory was correct. He and Brador talked as they crossed to the Cathedral Ward. 

“Don’t you have work as well?” Henryk asked. 

Brador waved a hand through the air. “I’m meant to keep an eye on the Captain when he’s out and about. Not much for me to do while he’s under the care of the Commander himself. Unless Ludwig is feeling frisky and decides to toss me out of the city for the fun of it, but he can send for me if he wants to do that.”

“So you’re just… Gascoigne’s tail?” Henryk asked. “Is that why you were at that party? And why you were there last night?”

Brador grimaced. “Sorry for not telling ya sooner.”

Henryk shook his head. “I guess I can’t be mad. You’ve been helping.”

“When I can, at least,” Brador said. “Sometimes I have to take it easy, when things go a little hazy.”

“So Ludwig is your boss?” Henryk asked. 

“Well, sorta. Ludwig manages everyone who’s under the employ of The Upper Ward, but he’s got a team of quiet folks like me. Simon, the one you saw last night, I guess he’s really the one who I’m supposed to report to, but I like to make him work for it, you know?” Brador nodded to himself. 

Henryk smiled. “You’re terrible.”

“Can’t let him get too big for his britches,” Brador said. “Even if he is mighty fine with that bow. He’d give you a run for your money on accuracy, I’ll tell you.”

“Well, if I don’t get exiled from the city in a day, maybe he and I can go toe-to-toe. Is he a shifter?” Henryk asked.

“Get this,” Brador said, eyes wide. “He’s a half-breed.”

Henryk raised his eyebrows. “Ludwig has a half-breed under his personal employ?”

Brador nodded. “I was shocked myself, but that’s why his voice sounds like that. His throat and mouth a little messed up from a partial shift he can’t finish. Not to mention he’s got scales on his face, hence the wraps. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this.”

“My lips are sealed,” Henryk said, entertained by how fast Brador was talking. 

“Oh it’s fascinating, though,” Brador went on. “They’re all shiny, real dark but also full of color. Like oil— right up here.” He tapped his temple and around his eye. He lowered his voice to say, “It’s rather pretty, actually. You know. If I cared, or whatever. But he’s got a right fucked up tongue too. Smells with it, like a snake. Wild shit, I’ll tell you.”

Henryk smiled, hands in his pockets, grateful that Brador was back on his side and had a different person to annoy this time around. Soon enough, they were right outside the gates to the Upper Ward where two guards stood, one man, one woman, weapons on their backs. 

“State your business,” the man said as Henryk approached. 

“Was hoping to check in on the Captain,” Henryk said. “Heard he’s sick.”

“He’s not accepting visitors,” was the curt response. 

“How about coworkers?” Henryk asked. “We work together. He’s running a mission that—”

“No,” the guard said louder, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “Ludwig’s orders. No visitors. No coworkers. Certainly no Confederates. And definitely no  _ cats _ . Off with ya.” 

Anger flared through Henryk’s chest, and despite the fact that he wanted to fight, he spun around and stalked off toward where he came from. Fighting would only bring trouble.

“Enjoy your day, asshole,” Brador shouted as he jogged after Henryk. When he caught back up he whispered, “You smell that? Un-fucking-believable, he’s got a bear at the door just to look out for you.”

Henryk huffed. He’d been too pissed to pay that close attention to the shifter himself. Bears were the only shifters that had even better noses than wolves.

“But you know, that means he takes you seriously. Which means he must know you’re special,” Brador guessed. He shook his head. “Didn’t know they’d be so swift with everything.”

It only made Henryk’s next decision easier. When he got to the League, Valtr gave Brador a scrupulous look. “A member of Ludwig’s guard come to visit?”

Brador shook his head. “Oh, no, I’m off today. Consider me just a friendly mosquito attached to Henryk’s side.”

Valtr looked right at Henryk. “Should I be concerned?”

Henryk sighed. “Let’s talk.”

Closed off in Valtr’s office, Henryk took a deep breath. “I think I should resign from the League.”

Valtr’s gaze jumped from Henryk to Brador and back to Henryk. The man stood up and offered his open hand. “I accept your resignation. It’s been lovely working with you, Henryk.”

Henryk shook Valtr’s hand. “Yeah.”

“Well, now that your afternoon is cleared,” Valtr took his seat again. “Mind telling me what the hell happened in Yahar’Gul last night? They’re still cleaning offal from the cobblestones last I heard.”

Henryk rolled his shoulders. “Micolash threw a tantrum. Everything we thought is right, and also worse than we could have ever thought.”

He laid everything out for Valtr, every detail he could think of. It didn’t really matter to him anymore who’s secrets were whose, and, strangely, as he spoke he realized even if he did walk away from the League, part of him wanted to keep in contact with Valtr regardless of job or allegiance. The man’s insight was valuable to Henryk, and, well, he’d grown used to Valtr’s ways.

Valtr nodded as he was caught up. “Seems the clock is ticking toward something. Do you think Micolash will try anything else inside the city?”

Henryk folded his arms to consider. “I don’t know, honestly. He wants me to come back to his hideaway and he wants Gascoigne dead. That’s about all I know for sure. Doesn’t seem like the order of operations is particularly important to him.”

“This ‘communion’ business,” Valtr started and Henryk was glad he didn’t visibly blush. He’d glossed over  _ some _ of the details. “You and the Captain have obviously managed some kind of symbiotic relationship that is unique to shifters. For as long as I’ve been around, I’ve never heard of a shifter with more than one form.”

“It was fucking wild, I’ll tell ya,” Brador cut in. “Some kind of half-wolf half-man thing. Woulda terrified me if Henryk hadn’t been there being all…  _ Henryk-y _ .”

Henryk glanced at him. “The hell does that mean?”

Brador smiled. “You were giving me that exact same little glare, only in cat-form. Got all mad at me for being concerned for my safety despite the fact that your man had just ripped apart a monster the length of two or three carriages.”

“Well… okay,” Henryk sighed. “I can see why that might have been alarming.”

“Kind of you,” Brador said. “Listen, League Master, if I were you, I’d do all of Yharnam a favor and post your men on every entrance and exit to the city. Either Micolash is still running about here with his friend or they’ve escaped and are going to come marching back with even more friends.”

Valtr nodded. “I had considered the same thing. Yes, I’ll get some more scouts out and about. I imagine some of Ludwig’s men are posted as well, though.”

Brador put his hands on his hips. “I hope so, but I’m a little worried that the man is preoccupied right now with his wolf pup so sick. Might not be at the height of his decisive prowess, ya know?”

“That’s certainly all the convincing I need,” Valtr said, rising from his chair. 

“Would you like me to do anything?” Henryk offered. 

Valtr went to the door of his office, a smile on his lips. “You’re not mine to order anymore. But I appreciate the offer. Perhaps, if nothing else goes through for you, I will consider you for contract work. In the meantime, I think you know where your place is. Thank you, Henryk, genuinely. You will be missed here. Yamamura is not nearly as entertaining to tease.”

Henryk smiled, despite the sadness of having just ended something here. “Too shy to know when you’re joking?”

Valtr gave a sigh. “I’m sure he’ll settle eventually. He does want to do well, but he takes everything very seriously.”

“Still want me to beat him up?” Henryk asked. “We could go hand-to-hand, you know, level the playing field a little. I’ll go easy if I have to.”

Valtr chuckled. “That could be just what he needs. Nothing like a broken bone to really clarify things.”

Valtr opened the door and gave Henryk a formal bow before leaving them to assemble the rest of the Confederates. Henryk and Brador stepped back outside, the day still obnoxiously young.  

“What’s he mean, you know where your place is?” Brador asked. 

Henryk took a breath. “I’ll be useless until I know Gascoigne’s okay. Too distracted.”

“I’d offer to go check in on him, but I don’t know if Ludwig will let me,” Brador said. “My animal isn’t good for sneaking either. Know anyone who’s better at climbing?”

Henryk shook his head. “No, but I do know someone who can fly.”

Brador grinned. “Let’s go spy on the Upper Ward.”

 

-

 

“You want me to do  _ what _ ?” Eileen’s eyes went wide. They were seated at her kitchen table. Henryk had briefly explained Brador’s presence, but he’d cut to the chase pretty quickly. 

“You don’t have to break in or anything,” Henryk said, trying to calm her. “Just see if you can see him.”

Eileen bridged her fingers together, taking a deep breath. “You are asking me to fly to the Upper Ward and see if I can spy on Captain Gascoigne while he’s under the direct watch of Commander Ludwig? Maybe even Laurence himself.”

Henryk bit his lip and nodded.

“Are you out of your bloody mind?” she asked. “If I get caught they’ll think I’ve changed sides.”

Henryk sighed. “You’re right, I’m sorry, this is a bad idea. I don’t want to jeopardize your job.”

“You’re giving up real easy,” Brador said, shaking his head at Henryk. 

Eileen’s brows furrowed, glancing between the two men at her table. “Why don’t you just walk your arse over and ask for him? Aren’t you an official city employee?”

Henryk laid his head on the table, an ache building in his temples. “They won’t let me in.”

“Why not? You’re practically employed by the Captain at this point,” Eileen said. “Is he contagious or something?”

Brador pulled a face, staring harder at Henryk. “Oh, she don’t know.”

Henryk gave a pathetic moan. “No.”

Brador pursed his lips. “Can I tell her?”

“May as fucking well,” Henryk sighed, feeling like a miserable child. “Tell the whole damn city at this point.”

Eileen folded her arms. “Tell me what, love.”

The headache was getting worse. 

Brador leaned over to Eileen, lowering his voice as if it mattered. “Henryk’s got it bad for the Captain.”

“Does he now?” Eileen asked, eyes narrowing. She turned her gaze onto Henryk. “I thought he had a man. One who didn’t already have a girl.” 

Henryk shut his eyes. “They’re not  _ technically _ together.”

“So you’ve been pining, then?” she pressed.

“Oh, heaven’s no,” Brador said. “Unless you count passing the moon as pining.”

“Passing the—” Eileen’s back straightened. “Henryk!”

Pressure pulsated through Henryk’s head and he just wanted to crawl into a dark corner. “I know…”

She touched his arm and he forced his eyes back on her. Her expression had completely shifted from annoyance to open eyed awe. 

“Henryk,” her voice came softer. “Does he know about you?”

That tightness was back in his chest as he nodded. 

“You’ve shifted with him, then,” she guessed. 

Henryk pressed his forehead back onto the table. It was slightly cooler and almost eased some of the pain. “Gascoigne got real messed up in the fight last night. But Ludwig knows about us and he won’t let me into the Upper Ward. I just want to know if he’s… if he’s okay.”

“I think you were fixin’ him,” Brador said. “Yesterday, at the hospital. You were healing him. How else would his leg mend so quickly?”

“You can heal each other?” Eileen asked. “Henryk, that’s incredible. You really are something else, aren’t you?”

Henryk sighed into the table. “It doesn’t mean anything like this. I think I have to be touching him for it to work and Ludwig won’t let me near him.” 

Eileen went quiet, but Henryk could almost hear the pounding in his temples. He startled at the sound of Eileen’s chair scraping backwards as she rose to her feet. 

“Well, well, twist my arm, then,” she was smiling. “I’ll wait until dark, of course, but I’ll see what I can see. Do you think he’s in his own place? Where should I look for him? I don’t know where he used to live or where they’d be treating him.”

Henryk gave her a sheepish look. “He’s probably in the Highest House.”

“Oh, great, yes, I forgot he’s the favorite, isn’t he?” she rolled up her sleeves. “Never a dull moment with you, hm?”

Brador was smiling too. “Just don’t get caught and it’ll be fine.”

Eileen scrubbed a hand across her forehead. “Right, right, how could I forget that simple rule. Only been spying for ten years.”

“You’re sure about this?” Henryk asked, sitting upright again.

“Sure is a strong word,” she said. “But I can’t stand you looking so pathetic. I want my old Henryk back, so I’m going whether it’s a good idea or not. If they catch me, well, I can always blame it on whatever Micolash did to me. Who knows if I’ll get a bout of confusion again, right?”

“I like this bird,” Brador said to Henryk. “She’s not afraid to break the rules.”

Eileen pointed at Brador. “Not a word of this to you and yours. I know you work for the stallion himself.”

“Oh, gracious no,” Brador shook his head. “Didn’t you know I’m selectively deaf? One of the perks of the sickness. I  _ constantly _ lose track of time.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Eileen said. “And you.” 

She faced Henryk with her hands on her hips. 

“I won’t tolerate that look on your face. Make yourself useful and help an old lady clean.”

Henryk raised his eyebrow. “You’re not that much older than me.”

“Old enough to pull rank on you and your friend  _ and _ your boyfriend. Now, you two are going to help me clean out my cages,” she said. 

Henryk was laughing as Eileen pulled on his arm. “But  _ mom _ .”

“Oi, none of that,” she snapped. “I’m not your mum, and those birds won’t clean up after themselves. Come on.” She grabbed Brador’s arm as well. 

“What? Me too?” But Brador let himself be dragged along. 

Eileen pulled them to the other side of her house where she kept her birds. She’d converted her porch long ago to be a sanctuary for any winged creature. They mostly came and went as they pleased but a few of them were her own trained messenger birds. 

“You’re really about to have me do chores?” Brador asked.

“Settle in,” Henryk said to him. “This takes a while.” 

They set to work scrubbing down the floors and various perches and feeders. Brador gave some perfunctory complaints, but all in all, he seemed to be enjoying the company of others. He and Eileen got on surprisingly well, taking much delight in bonding over their shared interest in teasing Henryk. 

“Never thought I’d live long enough to see a lovesick Henryk,” Brador said when he caught Henryk staring off into the distance. 

“I’m not… shut up,” Henryk muttered, focusing back on the perch he’d been cleaning. 

“How many times did you moan on about never wanting to settle down?” Eileen asked, leaning on her broom like a walking stick. “What happened anyway? Tell me what Gascoigne did to get you so worked up?”

“Yes! Story time,” Brador said, eyes bright.

Henryk hated their eager eyes on him because his face burned so badly when he thought about it. “I—I don’t know. He just… we.” He cleared his throat, stopping to gather his thoughts. What  _ was _ it, after all? How had they gotten so far? Henryk shook his head. “He wasn’t afraid of me. He just made everything simple. It wasn’t about  _ why _ or  _ how _ or  _ should we _ or  _ shouldn’t we _ . He just wanted me and that was that. I was impressed with him.”

“Oh, that’s a feat in and of itself,” Eileen said, smiling.

Brador had come to stand beside her. “Tell me about it, I don’t think I’ve ever heard him compliment someone.”

Henryk glared at them both. “Does that answer your question?”

“What was your first date, then?” Eileen asked. 

Henryk folded his arms. “We can’t go on dates, Eileen. People would look at us weird.”

“Well, surely there was a time when you officially started up your thing?” she pressed. “Not every date is out in public.”

As much as it flustered him, the answer sprang to Henryk’s mind. Gascoigne’s house. Admitting how much Gascoigne liked how Henryk smelled. The couch in his living room and Gascoigne’s complete lack of shame. His face on Henryk’s neck. 

“Did he ask you to go steady?” Eileen teased.

“Or maybe there was a bit more  _ moaning _ involved,” Brador offered with a grin.

Eileen smacked his arm, laughing. 

Henryk rolled his eyes, but it was nice to see these two get along. “Like I said,” Henryk told them. “He impressed me.”

Brador whistled. “Well I’ll be damned. Didn’t think you had such a rugged type, though.”

Henryk shrugged. “He’s not as rough as he seems. Or, well, he can be gentle when he wants to be.”

“He may not be my type, but I can appreciate the look,” Eileen said. “And he’s handsome enough.”

“Sure, but he’s fucking huge,” Brador said, hand on hip. “I personally wouldn’t want to give myself a crick in the neck just to say hello to a sweetheart.”

“You’ll probably not have that problem if you’re looking for a girl to spend your time with,” Eileen quipped. 

Brador waved his hand through the air. “Man or woman, I’m not  _ looking _ for anyone. God knows the sickness would probably scare any shifters away. I’d probably do better with non’s at this point.” 

“Non’s… or maybe a half-breed,” Henryk ventured. 

Brador considered this for a moment, leaning an elbow on Eileen’s shoulder. She looked like she was going to complain, then held her tongue, casting Henryk a sidelong glance, which he returned with a smile. “Not a bad suggestion, I suppose. Depending on the person. Most of them go sterile anyway, and if they don’t, they’re told not to have kids. That’d nip that in the bud. I love found family, but I’m not looking to put anything into the world I can’t see through.”

“You’ve learned a lot about half-breeds,” Henryk said, trying to sound impressed. “How generous. Already on your way to impressing one of your own.”

“Ahh,” Brador shook his head. “Only one I know is Simon and he’s…”

Eileen looked at Henryk’s sly grin and back to Brador, putting the pieces together. “Is he with someone?”

“Oh heavens no, I’d be shocked if the man even took his clothes off for a doctor’s visit if you know what I mean. I’ve a feeling the scales go further than the face,” Brador said, shooting Henryk a wide eyed look. “No, god, he’s my boss. I couldn't possibly.”

“Since when do you care about that?” Henryk asked.

“Oh, I don’t care,” Brador assured him. “But  _ Simon _ would. Rules are law in his book. I don’t know if I could get him to let go of that.”

Eileen nudged him. “Where’s that fighting spirit, love?”

“I feel as though this conversation has completely derailed,” Brador said, pretending to straighten a tie he wasn’t wearing. “Back to business, yes? These birds need a clean landing area.”

Henryk and Eileen started laughing as he took up his previously abandoned task. The day passed quickly enough in the company of others, but as soon as it was dark, Henryk’s stomach began twisting into knots. 

“Is it time?” he asked. 

Eileen looked to the sky, judging the cloud cover. “I think this is as good as I’ll get. Wait inside for me, alright? Hopefully I won’t be gone too long.”

Brador and Henryk retreated back to her kitchen. They set water on to boil and took seats at the table, eyes on the moon rising through the window. 

“Wolves are stronger are night,” Brador said, seemingly out of nowhere. 

Henryk looked over at him. 

“Apparently it’s a thing where the sick ones or the  _ really _ old ones, so old or sick that you know they’re about to pass, that it might even be a blessing, ya know? They’ll hang on just for the sun to rise before they go.”

Henryk thought he knew what Brador was saying, but waited for him to finish.

“Even if things are dire, so long as the moon is out, you don’t have to worry.” 

“What if things  _ are _ dire, though?” Henryk asked. “I can’t stop the sun from rising.”

Brador met his worried look with a calm one. “Then we have ‘til dawn to get you to him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eileen and Brador are /this/ close to buying matching friendship bracelets.  
> @oodleswrites ==> follow me on twit if ya like


	22. Chapter 22

Henryk and Brador played cards to pass the time. Nobody kept score, Henryk just needed something to focus on until the sound of the back door caught his attention and he rushed over to meet Eileen.

The look on her face gave him his answer. 

“Henryk,” she said. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. 

“Is he alive?” Henryk demanded.

“Yes,” she said, shoulders sagging. “But apparently he’s been under since yesterday night. Nothing’s been able to wake him. They don’t know what they’re fighting, so they don’t know how to fix it. Laurence has access to every kind of medicine. He even has medicine  _ just _ for wolves, but none of it is working.” She looked like she wanted to say something else, but the words weren’t taking shape.

“Alright, what did I say?” Brador stood beside Henryk, clapping his hands together. “We have to work fast.”

“What’s your plan?” Eileen asked. “Do you have a medical degree I don’t know about?”

“No degree,” Brador said. “Just a magic cat and a set of wings. I’ve made solid plans with less material than that. His room has a balcony, yeah?”

Eileen nodded, folding her arms. “You want me to drop him off?”

“Preferably wait until the right moment, but yes. How many people do you know who bother to lock a second floor balcony? It should be easy for Henryk to get inside, it’s just a matter of keeping himself hidden. The scent will be a problem if anyone with a strong nose walks in, but that’s the risk we’ll have to take.”

“If I wear something of his, it might cut down on that,” Henryk said, picking up fast. “If we go to his house first, maybe tie one of his shirts around me?”

“He gave you a key to his house?” Eileen asked, voice going soft.

Henryk shook his head. “He doesn’t lock his porch. Don’t tell anyone else that.”

Brador smiled. “Great. Then I’ll cause a ruckus while you fly him in? Maybe it’ll be enough to draw any wandering eyes off the sky.”

“Better be a good ruckus,” Eileen said. “It’d be hard to miss a massive crow getting that close to the Captain’s windows. Henryk might be a cat but I don’t want to drop him from too high up.”

“I just so happen to be a bit of a specialist when it comes to drawing attention,” Brador assured her. “Leave it to me, but give me about an hour before you go? And do yourselves a favor, drop him somewhere where he can get to the Captain but not directly on top of his place. Just in case someone sees you. Make it look like you’re interested in something else.”

Eileen nodded. “I can do that.”

“You two get ready then,” Brador said, already heading for the door. “An hour. Get close to the Upper Ward, but don’t approach the Highest House until my show’s started. You’ll know when it’s time!”

He slipped out the front door. 

Eileen put her hand on Henryk’s shoulder. “Shall I meet you at the Captain’s house? I’ll wait for you on the porch.”

“Sounds good,” Henryk told her. “And thank—”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she cut him off. “Have the Captain buy us dinner when it’s over, alright? Something very fancy. So fancy you’ll be miserable the whole time and I’ll drink something I’d never be able to afford otherwise. And let me meet him, yeah?”

Henryk laughed, even though it hurt a little. “Got it.”

 

-

 

Going to Gascoigne’s empty house was hard enough. Picking through his clothes for a suitable thing to take with him set a sharp pain in his chest. It was torture to walk away when he felt the strong desire to curl up in bed— how many nights had he spent here?— and just drown in the scent of Gascoigne, but Henryk got what he wanted and went to wait for Eileen on the porch. 

The crow arrived a little while after. Eileen’s shift was huge compared to a regular crow, but since most of her size was in her wingspan, all in all, she was still fairly small as far as shifts went and she was able to land easily enough on the porch.

“I’ll need you to tie this on me,” Henryk told her, putting an old black shirt on the ground. He shifted into his smaller form and stood facing away from her to give her some privacy.

She shifted, bare feet padding over to him. “Paws up,” she said, and slipped the shirt over Henryk’s head, sticking his front legs through the short sleeves. He felt her pull the shirt taut against him and and secured the excess fabric with something. 

“You can keep the hair tie,” she said and patted Henryk on the head before shifting again. 

Henryk opened his eyes, facing the crow. He rarely ever saw Eileen in shift, and in his small size, the massive crow was a bit intimidating, until she gave this little  _ croo _ noise and hopped a step closer. 

A while ago, Lady Maria herself had commission the creation of a bag with special straps and fasteners that Eileen could wear in her shift without fear of it falling off her body. It had been constructed precisely so that Eileen could put it on as a human and then shift and have it fit snugly against the crow’s body while she flew. That bag was  _ just _ big enough for the small cat to fit inside of. Henryk sort of fell into it head first, landing mostly in a bundle of more hair ties and a silk scarf. He was not really prepared for the reality of flight so it almost came as a relief that he couldn’t see at all as they took off. Fear was an icicle through his heart as he wondered if he was too heavy to sustain momentum or if the bag would rip or he would be smacked against something as they traveled. 

The bag jostled along and Henryk felt nausea roll through his belly. It was hard to move, so he just curled up into as small a shape as he could until they thankfully came to a stop. He poked his head out of the bag and, after the world stopped spinning, he gathered that they had come to roost on top of the Grand Cathedral to wait for Brador’s show. It was a perfect hiding spot. They were very close to the Upper Ward gates, but still perfectly hidden from any passers-by. Henryk hooked his front paws over the edge of the bag and looked out over the rest of Yharnam. 

The night was still early and there were people walking about the Cathedral Ward, but Henryk was sure it wasn’t nearly as many people as he would have expected. All the incidents occurring were almost definitely making people less willing to venture out at night. He didn’t blame them. Most of them were clueless as to how dangerous this all really was. 

As they waited, Henryk found himself looking up at the moon. He’d always felt so cursed by it in the past, but the second he’d put his trust into something, doors had opened correspondingly. If the moon was helping Gascoigne, Henryk would find a way to pin it to the sky if he had to. 

Eileen had faced herself toward the gates, and that was where Henryk had expected to see or hear some kind of commotion, so the both of them were taken fully by surprise when they heard sparks going off behind them, followed by an explosion. For a moment Henryk feared for their safety, but when Eileen spun around to face the noise, he realized what Brador was up to.

Fireworks began to color the night sky. Henryk wanted to laugh, but he didn’t have time before Eileen took off in flight once more and he fell back into the bag. 

The crackling and screaming of the explosives in the sky kept on for just long enough for Eileen to come to a stop again. Henryk could smell that they were in wolf territory. He struggled out of the bag, finding himself on the roof of the Highest House. Eileen gave a crooning noise before disappearing over the edge. Henryk lifted his nose up, smelling for Gascoigne and for that awful poison that would undoubtedly lead to him. As he walked along, the fireworks faded into clouds of smoke gently drifting back to the earth. He could smell many people beneath his feet, wolves and other shifters going about their business. It was so full of life, he wondered if his own scent would be masked just by virtue of being in such a crowded space. 

_ There. _

Henryk caught the scent he was searching for and followed it to the edge of the rooftop, right over a balcony as Brador had suspected. Henryk wished he could see inside, but the sloping roof extended past the windows. He tried to listen in and smell for any people inside the room, but it was hard to tell with so much else going on around him. Aiming for a pool of shadow on the balcony, Henryk jumped down and landed hidden behind a wall. He crept closer to the light, peering inside the room through glass doors.

A massive bed was the first thing he saw, but it was high up and he was low to the ground, so he couldn’t tell if it was occupied. He couldn’t hear anyone talking, but Gascoigne’s scent was unmistakable. This was certainly his room. 

Henryk stepped further into view, scanning the room for movement. On the other side of the bed, someone stood and headed straight for the door. Henryk flattened himself against the wall, out of sight. The glass doors were pushed open and a woman stood in the doorway for a moment, gaze on the night sky. 

“A little fresh air never hurt, right? Besides, that poison is harsh on the nose.” 

She stepped back inside, speaking to someone he couldn’t see. Her accent was clearly Cainhurst.

“What was with those fireworks, anyway?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” came an all too familiar voice. “Certainly unauthorized usage. You don’t think it’s some sort of signal, do you?”

“Perhaps someone had a bit too much after work and has grown tired of the silence,” the woman replied. “I’d hardly be concerned about enemy communications. Seems a bit too gaudy for Micolash’s tastes.”

“Hmm, should we be worried about alcohol?” Ludwig asked. “I always fear that the city indulges a bit too much.”

“Honestly, Ludwig, you could do with a bit more indulgence yourself,” the woman replied. “When is the last time you took a day off?”

“Now is hardly the time,” Ludwig responded.

The woman made a noise. “I came here to relieve you of your watch for five minutes. If you cannot trust me to preside over a comatose man, then why did you put me in charge of anything at all?”

Ludwig sighed. “I… suppose I could take a small break.”

“Please, Ludwig, you need to get out of this bedroom,” she said. “I promise I will alert someone if anything changes. The night is still young. Take advantage of it. Maybe with a nip of whiskey and a nap. Anything that isn’t staring at a sick man.”

“Thank you, Maria. As always, I appreciate your willingness to—”

“Ludwig,” Maria interrupted. “Go. This wolf doesn’t appreciate your company at the moment, but there is another who might. Where is Laurence, anyway?”

Another sigh. “He’s been locked in his study since the afternoon with a sample from the beast that attacked Yahar’Gul.”

“Go make sure he’s taken care of,” Maria insisted, her voice edging toward pity. “He must be starving by now.”

“You’re right, of course. Perhaps I will clean myself up and try to bring him back out.”

“Sooner than later,” Maria said. 

“Yes, yes, I’m going.”

Henryk heard a door open and close. Lady Maria complicated matters. How the hell was he supposed to get close if the spymaster herself was watching over Gascoigne?  _ Shit. _ Henryk had no idea how good her nose was. She wasn’t a wolf, but she was dangerous for sure.

Maria returned to the balcony and stepped outside, planting her hand on her hip. She did not wear a uniform, though her hair was still impeccable, pulled into a flawless ponytail. She pivoted and faced Henryk, staring right at him.

“There you are,” she said. 

Henryk’s heart jumped into his throat.  _ Fuck. _

“This had better work,” she said, possibly more to herself. “Come in before you lose your window.”

Henryk’s heart stilled and he bolted into the bedroom. So Eileen had done him more than one favor.

Henryk leapt onto the bed and there he was. Gascoigne was passed out, face gaunt, a bit of a red hue to his cheeks, not rosy but more like a bruise forming. His breathing sounded as though there was cotton blocking his airway. Henryk was nearly overcome by the sight of him so sick.

“Eileen said you’d be able to heal him,” Maria spoke while she crossed the room to a table with a set of glasses. “I’m not interested in anything beyond saving the Captain’s life, so please, get to work.”

Henryk approached Gascoigne, feeling like an idiot. He didn’t know how this worked or what the best thing was for Gascoigne, so he just sat with his side touching Gascoigne’s arm, hoping the contact was enough. 

Maria came to stand by the bed, staring down at Henryk.

“You won’t be alone for long,” she said. “Best stay out of sight while you can. I recommend underneath the covers at the very least.”

Henryk did as she said, burrowing beneath the sheet and comforter that was spread over Gascoigne. He laid with his head in the palm of Gascoigne’s limp hand, hoping against hope that this was all that he needed to do. Maria adjusted the sheets over top of him and stepped away.

The smell of the poison was even more powerful than it had been in the hospital. It must have gotten stronger in Henryk’s absence, just as he’d feared. But, underneath that, the wolf and the man were there as well, lying dormant, but unreachable. 

Eventually someone else entered the room with more medicine— a wolf by the smell of her. Maria chatted with her idly while she did a few checks on Gascoigne. The sheets rustled, but Henryk remained hidden through it.

“Another round of antidote?” Maria asked. 

The other woman sighed. “Yes. He doesn’t say it, but Laurence is desperate. I’m not sure what more we can possibly give him.”

“Can you blame Laurence?” Maria said. “If there is one thing he cannot stand, it is not being able to help his wolves. And especially in the realm of his chosen field. This must be killing him.”

“He isn’t happy,” the woman said. “He’s working himself ragged, though, and if he keeps this up, he’ll only make himself sick as well.”

“Perhaps it is time to get him out of that laboratory,” Maria said. “Has Ludwig tried anything yet?”

“Last I saw he was trying to bribe Laurence with tea,” she said back. “I think Ludwig is more likely to get roped into helping Laurence.”

“Well, better they’re with each other. When did you return from school?”

“As soon as I could,” she said. “They told me Gascoigne was ill but I could hardly believe it myself. I’ve never seen him with so much as a cold and now… he is a very good brother, you know?”

“I’m sure,” Maria said. “I remember a time when people thought you two were related by blood. That white hair of yours.”

The woman laughed and Henryk realized who she must be. The only other wolf allowed out of the house. “You know, Gascoigne came to visit me a little while ago at school. Just to say hello since he’d come back. I was surprised to see him so… alive. Like years of war hadn’t happened at all. When he left the Ward, it was like he’d been living under a storm cloud. I was so worried that it would only make him more miserable to be out there.” The woman lowered her voice. “But I think he’s met someone.”

“Is that so?” Maria asked, sounding surprised enough, but Henryk wondered if she was not simply a talented actress. “That complicates the watchers’ plan.”

She gave a laugh. “Since when does Gascoigne care about the watchers? I’m more impressed that he found anyone at all. He never struck me as a romantic, but the more I think about it, the more sense it makes. Did you know he sent me letters while he was away? All of them amounted to about the same three sentences. Just,  _ Dear Amelia, I’m doing alright. Don’t worry about me. Your brother Gascoigne _ . I didn’t realize how important those stupid letters were to me until I had confirmation that he was coming home again. I chewed him out for not coming to see me in person sooner, but I wonder if it was not because he got caught up with someone else.”

Maria made a thoughtful noise. “It must be someone who cannot guarantee him a child, or else he would have told someone by now. A non-shifter perhaps? He does spend much of his work with them these days.”

Amelia must have straightened the sheets because something moved above Henryk. “Knowing Gascoigne, if he’s going to cause a scene, it’ll be quite the spectacle. But what worries me is the thought there is someone out in the city who doesn’t know he’s sick right now. Someone who cares about him. It breaks my heart to consider finding out a loved one might be… ” 

Her breath left her, but Maria quickly filled the silence. “None of that, now. I believe he’ll pull through.”

“Do you really?” Amelia asked.

“Look at me,” Maria urged. “You know who this is. He is not done fighting.”

Amelia sniffed once. “Yes, oh I know. So long as the sky is blue, he will have a battle to fight.”

“So,” Maria said. “No tears. Not while he lives.”

“Thank you,” Amelia sighed. 

“And, if it would please you, I will look into this mystery person for you to see if I can’t spare them any misfortune.”

“Oh, would you?” Amelia asked. “That’s very kind of you. I just have no idea who he spends his time with other than his coworkers. When he and I caught up, all he spoke about was work. How about I take over the watch for a little while?”

“If it’s all the same to you,” Maria said. “I’ll stay. Perhaps the time will go faster with some company? Sit. Tell me about your studies. It has been a very long time since we were able to talk.”

Maria drew Amelia away from the bedside and they began to speak about Amelia’s education in medicine. She was not attending Byrgenwerth, but Laurence had allowed her to study at the college in Yharnam (perhaps with the persuasion of a certain wolf) on the condition that she visit frequently and only earn the highest marks. At once point, Amelia paused to ask Maria why she could smell a cat in the air. Maria informed her that Gascoigne had taken a stray in at his home that he was supposedly quite attached to. 

“He has a cat?” Amelia laughed. “How things have changed.”

“Perhaps Gascoigne’s wolf asked for a friend,” Maria said. “I hear they are on much better terms these days.”

“I hope the solution was that simple,” Amelia said. “I’d ask to meet this cat, but I think my own wolf might not like it. She is particular, you know.”

“Ah, yes, I wonder where she picked that up,” Maria responded, to which Amelia laughed again.

As the two women spoke, Henryk found himself lulled into a calm by the pulse in Gascoigne’s hand. Though it was fragile, he could feel that thread again, joining them together. Something was definitely at work, but it was tenuous and he could tell that having broken it previously had not done them any favors. It was repairing itself slowly, and Henryk feared that it wouldn’t go fast enough. If he was discovered before the healing was over, there was no telling what might happen. 

The warmth of the bed and the hushed conversation and the reassurance of being at Gascoigne’s side was putting Henryk to sleep. He didn’t think it mattered as far as the healing was concerned, but it might not be the smartest idea while he was so vulnerable. Maria could only do so much for him without implicating herself and he didn’t imagine she’d risk her own credibility for him.

But it was so tempting just to close his eyes. He could barely keep them open anyway. That healing thread was draining him of a lot of his strength as it were. Maybe just a few moments of rest would do them  _ both _ some good. After all, surely Henryk could only heal better if he himself was healthy and—

—running again, paws steady on solid earth, pushing himself to feel, and be felt, and know that it was alright. The wolf was beside him, panting, easily keeping pace. Or maybe they were racing? It didn’t matter. It wasn’t about winning. It was just about staying together. No destination mattered more than—

Henryk awoke in a panic as the sheets were yanked off the bed. Ludwig’s eyes narrowed at the cat. 

“I thought I made it clear you are not welcome here,” he said.

The healing was long from finished and Henryk knew it. He huddled closer to Gascoigne’s arm.

“Leave,” Ludwig commanded, but Henryk stayed. 

“Who is it?” Amelia was trying to see, but Maria put a hand on the young woman’s shoulder, pulling her back. 

And… dear lord, there was  _ Laurence _ in the corner of the room, staring right at Henryk. The man was shockingly youthful in appearance, and Henryk realized that what he had once considered to be generous portraits were, in fact, accurate depictions. He looked to be around Henryk's age, despite the pale white hair he had tied back and his blue eyes touched with grey. 

“How did they get inside?” Amelia asked, even while Maria guided her away. “We were here the whole time.”

Ludwig reached for Henryk but Henryk hissed at him. The man did not look amused, and grabbed for him, clutching the shirt tied to Henryk’s body. Henryk slipped out of it, darting up to Gascoigne’s face. Ludwig gave a noise of frustration and picked Henryk up with both hands. Henryk did the only thing he could think of. He shifted, not into his human self, but into the large cat. Ludwig was forced to drop him, and backed away, eyes wide as Henryk planted a large paw on the other side of Gascoigne’s body. He made a low rumbling noise, hoping the message was clear.  _ I am not leaving. _

“Oh!” Laurence touched his own mouth, staring directly into Henryk’s eyes.

“Stay back,” Ludwig said, arm thrown out to ward Laurence away.

But Laurence walked right up to Ludwig, patting his shoulder. “Let me through.”

Ludwig held Henryk’s gaze. “This shifter is dangerous. Laurence, I insist—”

Laurence cleared his throat, effectively silencing Ludwig. “ _ Now _ , Ludwig. We do not have time to argue.” It was so strange to hear such a youthful voice from Laurence. 

Ludwig dropped his arm, though he did not relax by any means as Laurence approached Henryk. Laurence raised his hands up, perhaps to show Henryk that they were empty, but it wasn’t Laurence that Henryk feared in that moment. 

“I believe we all want the same thing,” Laurence said, voice gentle. “We want him healed as fast as possible, yes?”

Henryk finally looked way from Ludwig and focused on Laurence’s grey-blue gaze. He sank down from his aggressive stance, laying his forelegs over Gascoigne’s chest, still unwilling to break contact. 

“Yes, I understand now.” Laurence sounded relieved, nodding a few times. “You won’t heal him fast enough like this, though. That poison works far too rapidly. We need to speed up the process. I can do that if you let me draw your blood.”

Finally, someone understood. Henryk reached a paw forward, to tell him,  _ yes, take as much as you need. _

“I’ll need it from your human self,” Laurence explained. “Don’t worry, we’ll get something for you to wear. I’ll need some supplies from my study, but we’ll get a transfusion going and it should start working much faster.”

Henryk bowed his head, resting it on Gascoigne’s shoulder. He would do anything to get him healed. Blood was the least of his concern.

He watched Laurence give a few orders. Ludwig was to retrieve clothing for Henryk, Amelia was to help Laurence gather the necessary equipment, and Maria was to keep watch and make sure no one disturbed Henryk and Gascoigne. 

“Allow them to stay in contact,” Laurence said to her. “We don’t want to risk a relapse.”

“Yes, sir,” Maria offered a slight bow before everyone cleared from the room. 

She cast Henryk a considerate look but said nothing. Henryk was just glad he could see Gascoigne’s face again, even if the shifter was still unconscious. There was no way for Henryk to tell if he’d improved at all since Henryk had shown up. He didn’t even know how long he’d been here, but at least it was still night time. 

Henryk rose to sit with his hip against Gascoigne’s side, looking down at him, one paw on his chest where his skin showed. 

“If it is any consolation,” Maria said, drifting toward them. “His breathing does not sound as pained as it did before nightfall.”

Henryk sighed. All he knew was that he wanted Laurence to come back and fix this as soon as possible. Maria kept him company, silently, until Laurence and Amelia returned with many instruments in hand. Laurence was asking her questions.

“Have you gone over transfusions yet?” 

Amelia looked a little nervous as she set a bunch of things down on the table beside Gascoigne. “Yes, briefly. We don’t do it very often. It’s considered a risky procedure. Patients have had unpredictable reactions to it in the past. The best results come from shifters with the same animal.”

“Normally it is risky,” Laurence agreed. “But I promise you, these are extenuating circumstances. We don’t need to be concerned about reactions tonight. I can tell you with confidence that these two are a proper match.” Amelia took a breath in and Laurence patted her arm. “Will you assist me?”

She nodded. “Of course.”

Ludwig returned shortly after, clearly still wary of Henryk but he came close enough to lay a few articles of clothing at the foot of Gascoigne’s bed.

“Apologies if they do not fit properly,” Ludwig said. “I merely took a guess at your size.”

Henryk glanced at him, and then down at the men’s clothes that he had laid out. It was safe to say that Ludwig had him figured out. Henryk crossed the bed and jumped to the floor, putting himself behind the relative cover of the large bed frame. Despite the anxiety he had over revealing this in about as public a manner as he could have, he shifted and grabbed the clothes, grateful that at least his lower half was obscured from view by the bed. He put on the pants that Ludwig had offered, grateful for the ties that he could use to cinch them to his waist, but he took the shirt he’d worn from Gascoigne’s and slipped that over his head.

Ludwig merely crossed his arms when he saw Henryk. 

“This way,” Laurence said, gesturing Henryk over. “Not a moment to lose.”

Henryk quickly went to him, feeling like he should bow or pledge allegiance or  _ anything _ . This was Laurence the first shifter after all, and he rarely made public appearances, let alone entertaining strangers in his home.

“Sit on the bed,” Laurence said. 

Henryk did, feeling any words dying in his throat.

“How do you usually fair with medical procedures?” Laurence asked. “Do you think a bit of blood loss will make you woozy?”

Henryk shook his head. “I don’t think so, sir.”

Laurence smiled. “The first round should be easy then. Ludwig, may I borrow you?” 

The man presented himself, hands behind his back, as though he were awaiting orders from his boss. Henryk realized with a start that he  _ was _ and it almost made him laugh. Laurence was the  _ only _ man who could give Ludwig orders. It was a bit entertaining to see it in action.

“Be a good fellow and hold the young man’s arm steady, like you were presenting a finely crafted sword,” Laurence instructed.

Ludwig held both his hands out for Henryk to lay his left arm across. 

“Keep it nice and steady,” Laurence said. “Amelia, would you wash our work area?”

She wiped down the crook of Henryk’s arm while Laurence assembled a syringe. He then tied a tight band around Henryk’s upper arm, inspecting his skin for a moment before looking him in the eye.

“Keep your gaze on mine. And tell me, what is your name?”

“Henryk, sir,” he said, making sure to watch Laurence’s face, even while the other man went back to studying Henryk’s arm. Laurence projected an air of delicateness which was reflected in the features of his face, his long thin nose and pale, yet bright looking skin, save for the very aged look of his eyes.

“Make a fist for me. You’ll feel a small pinch,” Laurence said. Henryk balled his hand up tightly. “Are you by chance the Confederate that I have heard about?”

“I’d imagine so, sir,” Henryk answered. His eye twitched as he felt the needle piece his skin. He’d had far too many needles in recent memory.

“Funny, I don’t know many Confederates who can shift,” Laurence said with a smile. 

“As it happens,” Henryk took a deep breath as he felt the blood leave his body. “I’m not a Confederate anymore. I quit the League.”

“Oh, how convenient,” Laurence responded. “Saves us the trouble of bothering Valtr. I’m sure he’s perfectly innocent in all of this.”

Amelia took a full vial of blood and gave Laurence an empty one in return. 

“And, may I ask, have you always known about your ability to shift into multiple forms?” 

Henryk swallowed through a rapidly drying throat. “No, sir. It’s rather new information.”

“I thought as much,” Laurence said. “Do you know anything about your parents?”

“I don’t,” Henryk admitted. “I was raised in a boy’s home in Loran.”

Laurence nodded. “Sounds about right, yes.”

More and more vials were being passed until Laurence finally removed the needle from Henryk’s skin and took the band off his arm. “There we are. That should start us off well enough. How do you feel?”

Henryk looked over at Gascoigne, a chill sweeping over him. “Cold,” he said quietly.  

“Why don’t you sit up there on his other side?” Laurence said, gesturing to the bed. “Keep in contact with him. And take one of those blankets, he’s certainly not using them.”

Henryk was more than happy to return to his post. He sat cross legged beside Gascoigne and put a hand on the shifter’s shoulder, his fingertips resting on Gascoigne’s collarbone. He was more anxious than ever for this to work. Laurence had dared to give him hope. 

They proceeded to hook Gascoigne up to an IV of Henryk’s blood. It was a bit startling to watch it move through him, but all he could do was trust that Laurence knew what he was doing. 

“Now we watch and see how he adjusts,” Laurence said to Amelia before catching Henryk’s gaze again. “Would you be so kind as to help us keep an eye on him?”

“You… want me to stay?” Henryk asked. 

Laurence nodded. “Of course I do. You are key to this process. Your presence can only help move things along.”

“Sir, I—” Henryk felt completely overwhelmed as he realized that Laurence definitely knew more than he did about all of this, and, more surprising than anything, the man didn’t seem angry about it. “I don’t know how this works. I don’t know what I am. But it seems like you do.”

Laurence actually chuckled a little. “I have my theories. There is much to confirm and discuss, that I won’t deny, but for now we need to make sure Gascoigne is healing, and we need to make sure that you stay healthy as well. This is a tricky operation. If we don’t take care of you simultaneously, this may begin to backfire.”

Henryk nodded, not entirely sure if he understood, but Laurence was confident enough in the way he spoke. 

“Don’t force yourself to stay awake if you need to rest,” Laurence said, going back to his supplies. “Amelia, would you bring the young man some water?”

She did, approaching Henryk with a curious look on her face. Henryk took a glass from her, drinking almost the whole thing as he realized he was actually quite thirsty. 

“Thank you,” he said. 

“Not a problem,” she responded with a quiet voice, taking a step away from him. She didn’t seem afraid, just overwhelmed. There were obvious questions in her eyes. Henryk imagined he was not the person she pictured when she thought of Gascoigne having ‘met someone’. 

“Can you smell the poison?” Laurence asked Henryk.

Henryk nodded. “Like rot.”

“Keep your nose keen for a change,” Laurence said. “With any luck, that rot will begin to fade. I believe this poison has bonded to Gascoigne’s blood and seeks to steal his energy from within. With the help of your own blood, I believe he will find renewed strength.”

“Did we not try this method already?” Ludwig asked. 

Laurence nodded. “We did, but I realize now that my own blood is no longer a match for him. I may have actually worsened this process by introducing my blood into his system.”

“How is that possible?” Ludwig asked. “You’ve always been a match for every wolf.”

Laurence looked at Gascoigne with those grey tinged eyes. “I admit I was not expecting this.” He faced Henryk again. “Nor was I expecting you. I think you’ve taken most of the people in this room by surprise.”

Henryk wanted to laugh, but it wasn’t right while Gascoigne remained unconscious.

“Things are changing, Ludwig,” Laurence said with a pat to the Commander’s arm. “We’d best start adapting. Old men like us will only suffer if we resist it.” He began cleaning up his mess of supplies. “As I said, there is much to discuss and much to ruminate on. I can’t confirm my theory until we see improvement.”

It sounded a lot like they were taking a gamble with Gascoigne’s health, and it felt like a fist in Henryk’s chest. “What if he doesn’t get better?” he blurted out.

Laurence gave Henryk a sad sort of smile. “Thinking like that is attributing Micolash a lot of foresight that I don’t believe he has. Do you?”

Henryk sighed, a bit annoyed at himself for voicing such a futile question. “No, sir, I don’t. Whatever you’ve been able to put together about how this works, Micolash hasn’t yet. He doesn’t understand that I’m…” He was self-conscious as he tried to word it. “Connected to Gascoigne.”

“As I thought,” Laurence said. “He may be aware of the existence of people such as yourself, but he has yet to grasp how you function. Micolash has always had the same flaw. He sees the world on such grand terms, but the details often escape him. He cannot find it in himself to care about one man’s life if he cannot put it on a larger scale.”

This, Henryk understood. Of course Micolash wouldn’t be able to envision a scenario where the relationship between two people could be anything other than trivial. 

“His loss,” Henryk said. 

Laurence nodded. “Agreed. That perspective will only hurt him in the long run.”

“What a strange smell,” Amelia said, approaching Gascoigne. “What is that? It’s… rather pleasant actually.”

Henryk took a breath in, catching a scent he couldn’t pin down. It was definitely coming from Gascoigne, though, and it carried notes of fresh earth. Something about it made him feel cleaner— like bathing after a long day or putting on new clothing.

Laurence gave a full on sigh of relief, shoulders dropping. “It’s working.”

This seemed to release everyone else from their own tension and it was like the room grew twice its size in one breath. 

Amelia let out a small laugh. “I swear, this man is more trouble every day.”

“You were perfect with your injection, though,” Laurence said to her. “You’re learning quite fast. You’ll make a wonderful doctor at the end of your schooling.”

She gave a curtsy. “Half as good as you, I hope.”

“Certainly more,” Laurence assured her.

“Well, if the danger has passed, I should return to my own offices,” Maria said, straightening her jacket. “Lovely to see you as always, Amelia. Perhaps next time we may have a conversation under less dire circumstances. The rest of you know where to find me should you need me again. Send a message when he wakes, just so I know?”

“Certainly,” Ludwig told her. “Thank you for your assistance.”

Maria bowed before exiting the room, but not without catching Henryk’s eye for just an instant. Henryk could tell well enough that she was not done with him. But that would come later. The feeling of relief hit him harder than he expected and the will to stay awake was swiftly leaving his body. 

“Sir, if I may…” Henryk began. Laurence turned to him. “I wouldn’t mind that rest, actually. It’s been a long day.”

Laurence nodded. “Of course. Amelia, would you help me clean up?”

“Should…” Henryk couldn’t describe the awkwardness he felt. “Where should I go?”

“Nowhere,” Laurence said with a smile. “We’ll wake you when we need you.”

Was he really allowing them to stay together? “Oh,” was all Henryk could manage. 

Laurence and Amelia finished cleaning up and before they left, Laurence assured Henryk that he would not be disturbed until it was absolutely necessary and that he should simply call out if he needed anything. As they walked out of the room, he heard Laurence instruct Ludwig to place  _ a trusted guard _ at the door. 

As the door clicked shut, Henryk felt an overwhelming rush of emotion that he attempted to curb, and promptly failed. He laid his head on Gascoigne’s chest and breathed through the tangled knot in his throat.

“Curse you for making me feel this way,” he muttered, drying his eyes with his sleeve. “You better wake up soon. It’s not fair of you to make me interact with your family while you’re asleep.”

Henryk found Gascoigne’s hand under the sheets and wove their fingers together. “You can have my blood, just, please wake up.”

He thought to change his position so as not to be so blatant about their relationship, but he couldn’t muster the energy to care. Laurence said he had to take care of himself. Well, this was the most comfortable position to him. Listening to Gascoigne’s breathing, feeling his heartbeat, and sensing both the man and the wolf slowly unfurling from their sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been writing a lot so updates are coming faster!   
> @oodleswrites if you want to say hey on twit. I'm friendly!


	23. Chapter 23

Henryk didn’t dream. There was no need, he supposed, now that they were together again. The next time he woke, Laurence stood by the bed, readying something for Gascoigne’s IV. 

“I need you to eat something,” Laurence said, switching the now empty container of blood for a clear fluid. “Keep your strength up.”

Henryk pulled himself upright and Laurence smiled at him, pointing at Henryk’s cheek. Henryk touched his face and felt a line indented across his face from the seam in Gascoigne's shirt. He felt heavy, both from the blood loss and the much needed rest, but he almost laughed.

“You slept well, then?” Laurence asked. 

Henryk nodded. “Is he getting better?”

Laurence passed Henryk a bowl of food. It smelled divine, meat, cheese and potatoes. He glanced behind him at the sun streaming in through the glass doors. 

“Much improved,” Laurence told him. “I can smell that the poison is lessening and his color is back to normal.”

Henryk looked at Gascoigne’s face. He’d gone from comatose to looking deeply asleep. A breath of relief escaped Henryk. Finally.

“Eat,” Laurence urged, eyes bright. “No guest of mine goes hungry.”

Henryk allowed himself a smile and started to eat. God, it was amazing. He devoured the food like he’d been starving for days, sighing through the bites. 

“I take it the food is to your liking?” Laurence looked amused as he checked the IV.

Henryk nodded. “Yes, sorry.”

“What on earth are you sorry for?” Laurence asked. “Enjoying the meal?”

“I just… feel a little out of place right now,” he said quietly.

Laurence took the empty bowl from Henryk’s hands. “Trust me, I am used to taking in strays. You’re not nearly as incongruous as you think you are in this house. We all used to be strangers at one point.” 

Henryk nodded. “Well… I bet most of the people here don’t break into your house before they meet you.”

Laurence laughed, covering his mouth. “You have me there.”

Henryk found his hands naturally resting on Gascoigne’s arm. They all knew, they  _ had _ to know by now what this was, but he still felt self-conscious admitting to it directly to Laurence, father of all the wolves. 

“Do you need more blood?” Henryk asked, watching Laurence check on the needle in Gascoigne’s arm.

“Not yet. I’m just going to give him some regular fluids for a moment, but once this is done, then we’ll prepare for round two. Which means you need water as well.”

He passed a full glass to Henryk and waited, hands on hips until Henryk had finished the whole thing.

“Very good,” Laurence smiled as he took the empty glass back.

Henryk stared at his own hand on Gascoigne’s arm, wondering when they would talk about it. He figured he should start sooner than later. 

“I assume when he’s healed you’ll deal with me,” Henryk said, looking at Laurence. 

The man blinked. “Deal with you?”

“I…” Henryk didn’t know how to finish that sentence, the awkwardness of this like sand in his mouth. 

“My goodness, what have people been saying about me?” Laurence turned away from the bed, toward a set of chairs and a table where the Commander was seated, eyes on a piece of paper in his hands. “Ludwig, this poor boy is looking at me like I am judge, jury and executioner. What foul rumors have you been spreading?”

“Me?” Ludwig did not look away from the paper he was studying. “I don’t believe I have spoken to him about you at all.”

“It’s not a rumor or anything,” Henryk said, getting Laurence to look at him again. “I just assumed you’d be mad. We haven’t exactly been smart about this.”

“An understatement,” Ludwig muttered from across the room.

“Honestly,” Laurence shook his head at the Commander. He pointed at Henryk. “Don’t listen to Ludwig. He could find a way to complain a sunny day.”

With a sigh, Ludwig set his things down and strode over to them. “Allow me the credit of a more complicated situation at work. Gascoigne has been lying to all of us about his relationship. He could have saved us a lot of trouble had he admitted to this much sooner. Speaking of, Djura has requested that we alert him as soon as Gascoigne is well enough to speak.”

“I’ll be meeting with Djura myself,” Laurence said. “We have obviously overlooked something in our previous attempts to match Gascoigne. Besides, there is another young wolf who needs a watcher more than Gascoigne does. I believe Djura will suit him much better. He’s a feisty one.”

Ludwig nodded. “Very well. And what do you plan on telling Viola and her family?”

“That we were wrong,” Laurence said. He gestured to Henryk. “We cannot ignore what’s going on here.”

Ludwig opened his mouth, but Laurence rushed on to keep talking.

“Even if we pretended that there isn’t established loyalty, this young man has saved Gascoigne’s life, and for that alone we should not take action against him.”

Ludwig inhaled, as if he might say something else, and then Laurence blurted out. 

“And, besides, Henryk is special. I need to talk to him about the power he possesses. It will only get stronger and  _ someone _ needs to teach him. I’m the only one who can.”

Ludwig stared at Laurence, closing his mouth. 

Laurence crossed his arms. “That’s all.”

“ _ Sire _ ,” Ludwig spoke slowly. “I know I cannot change who Gascoigne is loyal to. I don’t intend to try. We all know how stubborn he is anyway. All I want to know is how to proceed from here.”

Laurence gave a pleased smile. “One step at a time. We’ll adapt, as we always have.”

Ludwig nodded. “Understood. Would you like me to fetch Djura now?”

“Oh, no, make him wait.” Laurence took a step back from the bed and beckoned Henryk. “I do believe it is safe for you to break contact. Perhaps we could talk for a moment? There is so very much for us to discuss.”

Henryk hesitated to leave Gascoigne, but Laurence smiled. “It’ll feel good to stretch your legs and besides, I’d like to show you something. I can’t bring it to you, so I need to bring you to it.”

“Alright,” Henryk said, letting go of Gascoigne and getting out of the bed. 

“Very good,” Laurence said. “Ludwig assures me he has a most trusted man watching Gascoigne’s room, so we needn’t worry about stepping away for a moment.”

Henryk re-tied the waist of his pants and followed after them with bare feet. Ludwig opened the door and Henryk nearly rolled his eyes when he saw a bright eyed Brador standing at attention outside the room.

“At your service,” Brador said, giving a low bow. “ _ Guar _ anteed loyal watch man here for the day. No one gets in or out of this room without going through me first.”

“So spirited,” Laurence said, chuckling as though Brador was just the most entertaining thing.

“Glad you’re okay,” Henryk said as he passed by Brador. 

“Same to you,” Brador grinned, watching them walk down the hall. He called louder, “should I be calling you ‘sir’, yet? Huh? When’s the wedding? Can I be your best man? I’ll fight Eileen, I found you first!”

Henryk tried not to laugh. 

“You know him?” Laurence asked, like a curious parent. 

Henryk nodded. “We were friends when we were kids. He’s been kind to me and Gascoigne recently.”

“Lovely,” Laurence said. “The more allies we have the better. Does he know what you are as well?”

Henryk nodded. “Well, as much as I know what I am.”

“Well, I am sorry that I was not able to find you sooner,” Laurence said. “I thought… well, I thought your rune had lost its power.”

“My rune?” Henryk asked. 

Laurence walked beside Henryk, Ludwig trailing a few steps behind them, ever watchful. “Yes. Oh, where to start. Well, I’m sure you’ve heard tales from before there were shifters— humans and beasts living in constant conflict. The stories vary from place to place, but most people speak of humans asking for power from the Gods in order to defend themselves. We have many different versions of this tale, and they’re all true, to some extent.”

“You’re a terrible storyteller,” Ludwig said from behind them. 

Laurence laughed. “I’m no good with words. I suppose the reason many different regions argue different versions is because the same story happened several times over in different places across our land at the same time. Everyone prefers the version of the story where a human asks the gods for power, but that’s not how it happened. The Gods came to us.”

They turned down the hall and Laurence produced a key from a chain tucked into the collar of his shirt. 

“They chose a few different people to gift some of their power to. No one truly has claim to be the first of the originals. It happened at the same time, on the night of a full moon, in a dream.”

Laurence unlocked a door at the end of the hall and stepped inside a cramped room bursting with books and journals and medical supplies and equipment for various chemical experiments. He walked past most of it to stand before a framed chart on the wall. It hung at eye level and looked almost like a star chart, but there were no recognizable constellations.

“Every mark you see here represents one of the original humans who were visited in their dreams,” Laurence said, hand resting gently on the corner of the frame. “Many of the originals have died and their runes have faded with them, but some remain. The ones I am aware of are hidden from other humans, for fear of corruption, but I think that is their loss. I have learned so much by remaining with them.”

Henryk felt like the rug had been pulled from underneath his feet. “You…?”

Laurence offered him a smile. “I am like you, yes. Not a shifter at all.” He chuckled but it was sort of hollow. “I’d show you but I lost my other forms many years ago thanks to a corrupt being named Oedon.” Laurence rested a finger on the glass over top of a mark that was unreadable to Henryk, but looking at it filled him with a sense of dread. “The promise of a city full of loyal followers drove him to possess the old Queen of Yharnam. He tried to turn all the citizens into vessels for himself by spreading his name for worship. The Queen was convinced he was a god, but he was no more a god than you or I. I’m sure you know some of that history. We still have a chapel named after him, as it stands.”

Laurence turned away from the chart, hands clasped in front of him. “He poisoned the waters in Yharnam. I had to give almost all of my blood to keep his corruption from infecting everything and I never fully healed from it. This body, this human form.” He touched his chest. “Is all I have left. You see, shifters have always been around as long as we originals have been. Wherever we go, we leave traces of our power behind, and from those traces, shifters are born. This is usually a slow process, but my conflict with Oedon changed the very air of this city and now shifters make up half the population where there used to be only a few. Lupine and canine shifters are those who hold more echoes of my own blood. Wolves resonant strongest with me. They are my kin. I feel… responsible for them. Truthfully, I feel responsible for every Yharnam shifter which is how I wound up staying here for so long.”

He turned to Ludwig. “How many times did I say I would be leaving soon?”

“How the decades pass so quickly,” Ludwig said, and though he didn’t smile, it was the closest thing to warmth Henryk had seen on the man.

Laurence sighed. “I didn’t want to stay, but I knew I had done something irrevocable. I had to make sure I could ease as much of the damage as possible. Oh, but you don’t need to hear my history lesson. You need to see this.”

Laurence put a hand on Henryk’s shoulder and guided him back to the chart. “These are the runes the we originals memorized in order to borrow forms that were not ours. We committed them to memory as the source of our power; one rune for each of us. My rune is here.” He indicated a mark that bore resemblance to the way Gascoigne’s hand looked when he partially shifted it, and yet, despite the aggressive image, gazing upon it sent a gentle feeling through Henryk’s mind. Laurence stepped away from Henryk. “Study this chart and tell me if any of them reach out to you.”

Henryk let his gaze wander over the various marks. It was the oddest sensation. He would look over one set of lines and dots, have this feeling rise through him— some mild, some angry, some pleasant— and as soon as he looked away, he immediately forgot what the rune looked like. A few of them took longer for his eyes to focus on, and some, no matter how hard he looked, the marks remained a blur on the paper. He went clockwise around the circle of marks, studying each one and promptly forgetting them with each new set until…

Henryk stepped closer, staring at one of them. It burned brighter than the rest, sending something like nostalgia through him, even though he had never seen this before. It was made of jagged patterns that felt so intentional where the others had felt haphazard. He was compelled to it, like a moth to flame. It was like meeting someone that he always heard stories of but had never set eyes on.

“This,” Henryk said pointing at it. “Looking at it is familiar, but I know I’ve never seen this.”

Laurence nodded, coming closer. There was writing in a foreign language on the glass frame above that rune and Laurence glanced at it. “Ah, I have not been able to read this one for many years. How old did you say you were?”

“Twenty seven.”

“Yes, it was about that time ago that it faded from my sight,” Laurence said. “But now, I can see it again. I can translate it for you but I won’t remember it afterwards, so listen closely.”

“What does it say?” Henryk asked quietly.

Laurence looked at the little mark, eyes narrowing as if it was changing before his eyes. “It speaks of an heir. Of sentimentality and the warmth of blood. It asks for balance from those who take these forms, but also decisiveness. It draws power from life.” Laurence blinked and turned away from the chart. “Always hurts my head to read those.”

“I have a question,” Henryk said. “Okay, I have about a thousand questions.”

“Let’s start with one,” Laurence said. “Shall we head back?”

Henryk nodded, walking beside Laurence as they left his study behind. “Someone called me an original once, but I’m not really, am I? It must have been my parents. Do you think one was like you and one was human?”

“That is my thought, yes,” Laurence said. “Unfortunately, I believe the original who sired you is no longer alive, which is why your rune had been unreadable until now. Normally, originals don’t need to procreate at all. My runes are rooted in family. I am stronger with more wolves in my pack. I have survived as long as I have by keeping those around me loyal and happy. I used to be able to give humans strength or lend one of my forms to them, or heal them in times of need. But times are changing and my power has nearly left me. I can only offer healing to my wolves anymore, so long as they are still loyal. That’s why I try to give them a good life here. Of course… now Micolash is evidence of my own oversight.” 

“I’d hardly call that an oversight,” Henryk said. “It sounds like he was broken before you got to him.”

Laurence nodded. “He has a brilliant mind but I fear his heart is too easily swayed. I tried so hard to make him care about his fellow man. He thought it cruel of me to keep this all secret, but I know not everyone can survive the learning. Those runes I showed you can be dangerous. Looking at them invites the voice of a god into your mind and not everyone is able to handle it. Only the Watchers know what I really am. And Ludwig. The last thing I want is jealousy for what cannot be helped. It’s bad enough that some non-shifters are made to feel inadequate simply because they are less receptive to the whisperings of an old mad creature.”

As they came closer to Gascoigne’s door, Henryk lowered his voice. “I don’t want to sound disrespectful, sir, but I have to ask you something else. Why is there such a push for the wolves to get married and have kids and all that? What does it matter?” 

Laurence sighed. “I am not the only person who runs Yharnam, you know. The Watchers help me. I’m no leader. Certainly no politician. So all I can really do is tell them that the sickness is a symptom of Oedon’s magic, and it breeds within unhappy, lonely or embittered shifters. I warn them that my own power and life will be sustained only for as long as people remain loyal to me. If I lose all of my power, I cannot guarantee that Oedon’s influence will not return. The Watchers turn these truths into policies that citizens can understand without revealing my true self. I don’t even know how long it’s been since we put that marriage rule into effect. It was meant to preserve the wolves and expand the pack, but… it is a selfish law, isn’t it?” 

They stood outside the door, Brador doing his best to look like he wasn’t listening in to their conversation. 

“Sir,” Henryk started, gearing himself up to ask the obvious. 

Laurence gave a laugh. “Young man, you don’t have to call me sir. I never hear my own name anymore. Might be nice.”

“Laurence,” Henryk said instead, finding it difficult to hold his surprisingly kind gaze. “Is it okay? For us— for Gascoigne and I to… ?” Why couldn’t he get the words out? “For us to be together?” 

Laurence studied Henryk, tapping his pale finger on his lip. “I would be lying if I said this wasn’t an impressive extenuating circumstance. But I have a feeling you are as loyal to Gascoigne as he is to you. Is this true?”

Henryk’s face burned as he said, “I think so.”

“Then I am happy for you,” Laurence said simply. “Let’s check on the Captain, yes?”

Ludwig opened the door for them again and Henryk was beginning to realize how very little he knew of these two men. 

“Ah, yes, time for round two,” Laurence declared from Gascoigne’s bedside. “I’d warn you not to touch him this time around. It may trigger his own desire to heal you and it doesn’t seem as though you have control over the bond yet. We can’t risk him giving back all the strength you just lent him.”

Henryk nodded, resisting the urge to go right to Gascoigne’s side. “Okay.”

Laurence set him up on the couch this time. As he prepared, he said suddenly, “Henryk, tell me something that I don’t know.”

Henryk stared up at him. “I have a feeling you know a lot more than I do.”

“Oh, I do love collecting information, it’s true. But it’s not quantity of knowledge that I value in others. I’m positive there is something you know that I do not. I’ve only just met you. I know nothing about you, so you must be a trove of information on the subject.”

Henryk gave a short laugh. “You just want to know about me?”

“Well, I’d settle for a history on the introduction of lumenflowers into Yharnam society. You know they’re not native to our soil but no one seems to know where they originate from. I only figured that perhaps your own memories are an easier subject to start on, but I don’t wish to limit the topic of conversation.”

Henryk laughed quietly. Laurence was clearly out of touch, but his overwhelming friendliness made up for it. “Alright, uh, I don’t know where I was born, but I was raised in Loran. Stayed there until I was a teenager when I came to Yharnam. My earliest memories are in that boy’s home where I met Brador. He’s a buck, and he used to help keep the bigger kids and the other shifters away from me. I’ve been pretending to be a non-shifter because, for the longest time, I only ever had access to one animal and it was so small. I thought I was just some kind of runt shifter, you know? Figured it was easier just to lie about it.”

Laurence made a noise like a grand idea had just occurred to him. “May I ask, have you been taking aconite over the full moon?”

Henryk nodded. “Yeah, since I got to Yharnam. Never missed a full until recently.”

“And I’m guessing, as a youngster, you didn’t spend much time with your animal?” Laurence asked. 

“Yeah, I wasn’t a fan of it,” Henryk told him.

“Ah.” Laurence wiped Henryk’s arm down again for the needle. “I suspect that your reliance on aconite and your own hesitance to change forms has caused such a delayed discovery of any other form. You took aconite for a decade. That’s a long time to poison yourself so regularly. If this is something you wish to explore, you mustn’t take aconite ever again or it will only stunt your power. Of course… if you’ve no interest in this side of things, then you can certainly continue taking it, but your relationship with Gascoigne may only make it more difficult to ignore.”

“So you’re telling me I’d have to give up the animal  _ and  _ Gascoigne,” Henryk said.

“That may well be the case,” Laurence confirmed, taking Henryk’s arm with the needle in his other hand. “You’ll feel another pinch.”

Henryk closed his eyes as the needle pierced him. “Think I’ll stick with Gasc.”

“I thought as much,” Laurence said, sounding amused. “He’ll help you, I’m sure of it.”

“He already has,” Henryk said, growing heavier as his blood left him. 

Even though Laurence took the same amount, it was twice as difficult to endure. 

“Mm, as I thought,” Laurence said. “I wouldn’t normally take this much from someone so soon, but we shouldn’t waste time. Forgive me, and get some rest.”

Henryk sat up, but the room spun sharply and he sank down onto the couch. “I’m just gonna lie here.” He phased in and out for a moment, fighting to stay conscious. He wanted to be there when Gascoigne woke up. He wanted to see those blue eyes so badly. But Laurence spread some blankets over Henryk and the warmth was just enough encouragement to start drifting to sleep. 

 

-

 

Gascoigne was slowly rising up out of deep water, fighting hard to break the surface. 

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough rest?” 

That voice was pleasant enough, but Gascoigne still wanted to punch whoever said it. 

“Come now, it’s about time you got back to real life. You must be tired of dreaming. Surely you’d like to eat something.”

Laurence sounded like he was enjoying himself far too much. Gascoigne groaned. 

“That’s it,” Laurence laughed as he spoke. “Can you smell it? I told Ludwig, nothing like meat and gravy to tempt you out of your slumber.”

Gascoigne  _ could _ smell it. His stomach was howling at the prospect. 

“How many times did I lure you out of your room on the scent of dinner?” Laurence was delighted, which was bad enough. 

“You sound like you’re buttering me up for some bad news,” Gascoigne said.

“Only that your breath is atrocious,” Laurence said. “I insist you brush your teeth before greeting your guest.”

Gascoigne pried his eyes open, the bright sunlight almost stinging him. And Laurence was right there, beaming at him. 

“How long’s it been?” Gascoigne mumbled.

“Too long,” Laurence said. “I got tired of waiting so I had the kitchen make your favorite and summoned your friend to see if we couldn’t coax you out of bed.”

“Why are you lying to him?” Ludwig asked from across the room. Gascoigne couldn’t see where he was and attempted to get himself upright.

“Well, alright,” Laurence admitted. “I was beginning to suspect that you’d wake soon, so I had some food made for you. And I didn’t summon your friend. He showed up on his own.”

“My friend?” Gascoigne repeated, suspicious. Every part of him ached, but the nausea and the fever were gone and his leg had mended. He was worlds better than he had been when he’d lost consciousness. 

“He came to visit you while you were sleeping,” Laurence went on. “If I had known you were courting such a fascinating person, I would have asked to meet him sooner.”

Those words banished the haze clinging to Gascoigne’s mind and he pulled himself upright to get a look at the room. Ludwig was over by the table pouring a glass of water out. Across from him, there on the sofa underneath a few blankets, Henryk lay with his eyes closed.

“Is he okay?” Gascoigne asked, heart racing. 

“Just recovering from donating so much blood,” Laurence said. “I’d recommend avoiding that poison in the future. Really made a mess of you.”

Despite the exhausting clinging to him, Gascoigne hauled himself out of bed. It took a moment to regain his balance back on two feet and he held the bed for support as it returned to him. 

“Perhaps taking it easy,” Laurence started, but Gascoigne was already walking over to the couch. “Well, you have to at least avoid direct contact with him for a moment. Until we know he’s alright.”

“Why?” Gascoigne asked, standing over a sleeping Henryk.

“The two of you are tied, you know,” Laurence said, walking over. “But neither of you have much control over the flow of energy between you. Henryk gave much of himself to heal you but it’s easier for him to naturally regain the blood he’s lost than it is for you to fight off that toxicity. Let him rest. You’d do well with a wash anyway. Don’t you want to look your best when he wakes?”

Gascoigne looked at Laurence and the light in his eyes. “You don’t mind?”

“Of course not,” Laurence said. “No one likes the smell of stale wolf anyhow.”

“Laurence, sir, that’s not what I—”

“I know.” Laurence patted Gascoigne’s arm. “I’m looking forward to picking his brain some more. Hardly got any information out of him before he fell asleep. Keeping it a mystery, I suppose.”

Gascoigne ached to touch Henryk, but he refrained. “Yeah, he’s good at that.”

“Go on, if you’re feeling strong enough to stand, you’re strong enough to shower,” Laurence said, pushing him toward the bathroom doors. “We’ll keep watch.”

Gascoigne nodded, studying Henryk for just one more moment before forcing himself away. He stopped at the bathroom doors and turned to Ludwig, who had taken a seat in an armchair, sipping his glass of water. 

“I didn’t mean to make this so complicated for everyone,” Gascoigne said. “I wasn’t expecting this to get so serious.”

“We never do,” Ludwig said. “Go on, now.”

Gascoigne shut himself in the bathroom, knowing that that was the closest thing to reconciliation that he and Ludwig could share, and that was just fine. He hurried to wash up, eager to see Henryk again, to see him and know that they were okay. If Laurence and Ludwig knew about them, surely that meant they could be together.

If they wanted. 

The two of them had been through hell to get here, and they hadn’t had the chance to speak at the symphony as Gascoigne had intended. Now was as good a time as any. As soon as they were alone again, that’s when they could figure this out.

 

-

 

When Henryk came to, he was surprised to see Gascoigne seated on the coffee table in front of him. Surprised, and so painfully relieved. The man’s eyes brightened as soon as Henryk saw him, and it was like the sun had come out after an endless night. Gascoigne reached his hand out, but froze up as Laurence said, “no touching!” 

“You said no skin.” Gascoigne smiled, setting his hand on Henryk’s leg. “You okay?”

Henryk sat upright. “Me? Are  _ you _ ?”

“Yeah,” Gascoigne said, squeezing him lightly. “I promise.”

Laurence swooped in and put a glass in Henryk’s hand. “Drink, drink. Get yourself back to normal.”

Henryk accepted it, knowing he had to but still just wanting a moment to speak to Gascoigne. 

“Eat as well,” Laurence insisted, resting a plate on the arm of the couch. “Be sensible! I can’t watch you twenty four hours a day so I have to play doctor while you let me.”

Henryk laughed. “Yeah, yeah.”

“And don’t worry, I’ve already made sure the wolf is fed,” Laurence assured Henryk as he put a hand on Gascoigne’s shoulder. “You’ve just got to catch up.”

Henryk ate another portion of delicious food, unable to keep his eyes off Gascoigne. The shifter finally looked healthy, and he was watching Henryk closely, eyes more alive than ever, practically buzzing from the effort of keeping himself away.  

“And now that everyone is on the same page,” Laurence began, clapping his hands together. “Henryk, I would like to formally invite you to remain in the Upper Ward so that I may attempt to teach you how to fully utilize your abilities. That is, of course, if you wish.”

“Wait, you want me to move up here?” Henryk asked. 

Laurence smiled. “I suppose you don’t  _ have _ to move here, if that doesn’t appeal to you, but I’m more than happy to provide a room for you. It would save us time if you did not have to commute from Central Yharnam. Besides, being here would mean you wouldn’t have to hide what you are, which will help you develop these skills faster.”

“I’ll have to consider it,” Henryk said, overwhelmed at the prospect. He set the plate down on the arm of the couch again. “I guess I’m out of a job, though, so I imagine I’d have a hard time affording my place anyway.”

“Well, the offer doesn’t expire, but please think it over. How are you feeling otherwise? Any headaches? Dizziness?”

“No, I feel pretty good,” Henryk said, which was the truth, though Laurence still gave him a questioning glance. 

“You know the worst part of treating adult patients is that they are far more likely to lie to their doctors in the hopes of continuing on with their normal lives,” Laurence said. “I’d caution you both to continue taking it easy for the next day. Don’t go gallivanting off to save anyone just yet.”

“I’m guessing we haven’t made any discoveries while I was out?” Gascoigne asked, turning around to look at Ludwig.

The man rose from his chair. “I have not received any new information or reports of suspicious activity, save for the unapproved use of fireworks one day ago.”

Gascoigne laughed. “What?”

“Oh yeah, uh, sorry about that,” Henryk said. 

Ludwig nodded. “Never mind, then. It appears nothing of interest has happened since you put that creature out of its misery in Yahar’Gul. Which means you have no excuse not to continue resting and rebuilding your strength.”

“Please let us know if you need anything,” Laurence said. “And think over my offer. If you want to—”

Ludwig placed his hand on Laurence’s upper arm very gently, cutting him off. “We’ll leave you for now, but we will check back in the early evening.”

“Oh, wait—” Laurence started as Ludwig led him to the doors. “Stay hydrated and I forbid any strenuous activity for at least twenty four hours! Keep resting!”

“Let them be,” Ludwig whispered, urging Laurence out the door. 

“But I was hoping to speak with Henryk,” Laurence said. 

“Later,” Ludwig told him. “They need a moment.”

“But why?” was the last thing they heard before the door shut.

Gascoigne started laughing. “Sometimes I think Ludwig is the only reason Laurence still understands how people work. And then I think that Laurence is the only reason Ludwig can tolerate anyone else. I don’t know what to make of them, honestly.”

Henryk put his hands on the couch cushions. “How old are they?”

Gascoigne quirked his eyebrows. “You know… I have no fucking clue. Laurence was talking to me about it while you were out. I can’t believe I had no idea what he was. I mean, we all knew that he was different, but we just attributed it to being the first wolf. For all I know, he’s older than Yharnam itself. And Ludwig… I know even less about him. He’s like Gehrman, you know, changed sides after Laurence showed up, but Gehrman has aged and Ludwig is still the same.”

“Gascoigne,” Henryk said, getting the shifter’s gaze back on his. 

“Yeah?” he asked, inching forward, placing both his hands on Henryk’s legs.

Henryk took a breath, but his chest felt tight and his throat stung and simple words were morphing into complex poetry as he tried to get them out. “I’m… so glad… that you’re okay.”

Gascoigne’s breath left him and he squeezed Henryk’s legs. “Can I touch you? Please?”

“I feel fine,” Henryk said. “You?”

“Yes, yes, god, c’mere,” Gascoigne moved off the table to kneel in front of Henryk. He wrapped his arms around Henryk’s back and pressed his face to Henryk’s neck. Henryk returned the embrace, breathing him in, combing his fingers through Gascoigne’s hair. He felt Gascoigne kiss his shoulder, hands bunching up the fabric of his borrowed shirt. 

“Henryk,” he said, kissing him again. 

Henryk’s eyes shut and all the tension finally melted. They were going to be okay. 

“You saved me again,” Gascoigne said. “I really don’t deserve you.”

Henryk’s hands were starting to shake, possibly from the swift release of the fear that had been gripping him, possibly from the realization that they were alone again for the first time in days and he wanted nothing more than to be as close as possible. He started pulling Gascoigne away, just enough to touch his face and see his eyes before meeting him in a feverish kiss. 

He heard Gascoigne sigh into it. Henryk wanted to smile but he also wanted to go back to sleep after letting go of so much anxiety. Oh, but the shape of him was so perfect, broad shoulders, strong arms, soft lips. Henryk wanted to memorize this feeling, but the exhaustion was catching up to him. They broke away, and Gascoigne gave this tired laugh. 

“Do you feel like you just sprinted a mile?” he took a breath. “It just kind of hit me all at once. They really don’t care. They know and they don’t care.”

Henryk nodded, tracing Gascoigne’s cheek. “Didn’t think having everything turn out alright would be so tiring.”

Gascoigne hugged Henryk to him again. “Can we go back to bed?”

“Yes.”

He took Henryk’s hand and led him away from the couch. It looked like someone had changed the sheets since Gascoigne had woken up, probably to get rid of the smell of the poison. Gascoigne sat on the bed and pulled on the bottom of the shirt Henryk was wearing.

“Can you take these off?” he asked.

Henryk gave him a smile. “Laurence said no strenuous activity.”

“ _ First _ of all,” Gascoigne began, eyes bright. “I can be gentle if I want to.  _ Secondly _ , that’s not what I meant. They just don’t smell like you.”

“Oh.” Henryk nodded, caught off guard by the sweetness of it. “Alright.”

Gascoigne got into bed and Henryk took the borrowed clothes off before sliding in beside him. The shifter gave a pleased sighed as he pulled Henryk against him, running his hand down Henryk’s back. 

“I never thought I’d be back here with you,” Gascoigne said. 

“Is this your old room?” Henryk asked.

“Yeah,” Gascoigne laughed. “You can imagine why I might have had some trouble in the beginning. I think this bedroom is bigger than the entire house I grew up in.”

“Where was your home?” Henryk asked. “What part of the world?”

Gascoigne began to tell him about where he grew up, situated in the vast forests between Yharnam and Isz. His father was from Isz, and Gascoigne suspected his mother was from Yharnam, which would explain how Laurence’s blood got so far away from the city. Gascoigne barely had any memories of her, and the ones he did have were faded— glimpses of grasping at long white hair and a soft voice singing him to sleep. His father spoke freely enough of his hatred of shifters, and Isz itself had never openly welcomed them. People used to claim that their children had been stolen in the night and replaced with shifters, just to be rid of them. 

“I never knew why my father chose to live in such an isolated place,” Gascoigne said. “Too far from either city to be a part of them. But I wonder now if he wasn’t actually a shifter who’d been ousted from Isz. Maybe that’s why he hated my wolf. It reminded him of why he had to leave. Not to mention the booze. Drinking too much is bad for your animal, keeps them down longer.”

“Was there any part of that place that was good?” Henryk asked.

Gascoigne had to think, but the answer came with a smile. “The woods were so big. I used to love wandering them and running when I could. I didn’t let the wolf out very often, but when I did, he would just take off full tilt. That was the first time we ever bonded. We love to run.”

Their conversation grew quieter, sharing different memories of youth— how Loran’s woods compared to Isz’s, the different foods they’d lived on, the things they’d heard about Yharnam growing up— until they both drifted off to sleep again.

Henryk woke up first, debated waking Gascoigne and decided against it. The man needed his rest. Henryk, on the other hand, felt like he had far too much to do to ever sleep again. His world had not stopped growing since he’d met Gascoigne and it didn’t show signs of slowing down. First things first.

Henryk shifted into the small cat, padding over the covers to put some space between him and Gascoigne. It took him a moment to figure out how, but he shifted into the big cat. It was harder when he didn’t feel any kind of threat, but once he found his way into that body, the sensation took shape like a puzzle that he’d solved. He wondered if there were more forms he could manage, maybe things that weren’t even strictly cats. He had no idea how this worked. 

The large cat felt good, though. He couldn’t deny how very  _ right _ it was to finally be able to shift into something so powerful. He knew he’d have to spend more time in this form in order to use it properly, but he also wanted to keep experimenting. 

Eyes closed, he flexed every muscle in his body to feel out the shape of it. He tried to imagine something different. Maybe something in between the two sizes, a body that wasn’t so heavy but built more for speed. He tried to imagine a shape that was lithe and sleek. As he focused on rebuilding himself, he could feel his body wanting to change but not quite knowing how. Pain sparked down his sides and he gasped, his body reverting back to human with a feeling like sand slipping through his fingers. He tried to get the animal back, but all too soon he was sitting on the bed, human once again.  

He took a deep breath. It was more of an effort than he would have expected to play around with different forms. His body buzzed with spots of numbness from the failed shift.

“Henryk…” 

He turned to see Gascoigne sitting up. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you… what?” Henryk asked.

Gascoigne was staring with wide eyes. He moved closer, a smile lighting up his whole face. “Fuck.”

“What?” Henryk insisted. 

Gascoigne touched Henryk’s back, fingers lightly tracing down bare skin, dispelling the pins and needles that danced through Henryk’s body. The wolf sighed in Henryk’s ear and it was woven through with want. “You tryna kill me?”

Henryk was about to protest  _ someone’s _ weak will when he felt Gascoigne’s fingers at the base of his spine, only it wasn’t his spine, but it was? Confusion piqued through him, cutting into the pleasant feeling from Gascoigne’s hand. Henryk turned to look at him, eyes catching sight of his own long black tail that somehow hadn’t shifted away, the end of it now draped over Gascoigne’s shoulder like it had a mind of its own. As Gascoigne began to scratch along the length of it, feeling blossomed through him and Henryk nearly moaned at the sensation both familiar and new. 

“ _ Oh _ ,” he shut his eyes as Gascoigne rubbed his thumb around the base of Henryk’s tail.

“Give me some warning next time,” Gascoigne said as the last of the numbness vanished. Henryk wound his tail loosely around Gascoigne’s neck as Gascoigne kissed Henryk’s shoulder. “We’re supposed to take it easy, yeah?”

Henryk caught himself kneading the bedspread as his hands began to partially shift. He managed to keep his claws back, but something about feeling Gascoigne handle his tail kept giving him those animal urges, all the while lighting him up with such distinctly human warmth. 

“You should stop if you don’t want me to…” Henryk pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, almost humming with how good it felt. If he were in the small shift, he’d be purring with Gascoigne scratching him like this.

“Don’t want you to what?” Gascoigne prompted, teeth on Henryk’s ear. 

“I just don’t—  _ ah _ ,” Henryk gasped as Gascoigne pulled on his tail just enough to strain it.  

“Now I get it,” Gascoigne said, moving closer to Henryk. “Does it feel half as good to you as it did to me?”

Henryk breathed in deep, pleasurable tension hooked deep in his muscles. He leaned his head back onto Gascoigne’s shoulder. “This isn’t taking it easy.” 

“You really want me to stop?” Gascoigne asked, sliding one hand around to Henryk’s belly.

“Fuck no, but you’re still recovering,” Henryk fought to keep speaking. “Don’t tell me I gave you all that blood just for to fuck yourself back into a coma.”

Gascoigne laughed, staying his hand on Henryk’s abs. “Alright, alright. But you’re the one who tempted me, let’s make that clear.”

“It was an accident,” Henryk said, picking his head up. “Won’t do it again.” 

Gascoigne pulled Henryk’s hips back toward him, this time gently tracing the tip of his tail. Henryk couldn’t stop himself from curling his tail in response to Gascoigne’s touch, still unbearably nice, but at least he could handle it without Gascoigne threatening to take it further.

“Don’t be drastic, now. I’m not complaining,” Gascoigne said.

“Didn’t know the mere sight of it would set you off,” Henryk said, turning to smirk at him.

Gascoigne’s eyes were unusually bright as he played with Henryk’s tail, just teasing him for movement. A smile surfaced on his lips and it was like Gascoigne had been hypnotized. Henryk started making him work for it, snapping his tail out of reach before Gascoigne could get to the end, setting off a spark behind Gascoigne’s eyes. Henryk chuckled and stretched out over the bedspread. 

“What’re you laughing at?” Gascoigne asked, so full of life in that moment.

“Nothing,” Henryk said, raising his tail back up. “Keep going, I think you almost had it.”

“Oh are you making fun of me?” Gascoigne asked, eyes still firmly on Henryk’s tail, now swaying back and forth. 

“You’re like a kid with a new toy,” Henryk said. 

“You’re teasing the wolf,” Gascoigne said, slowly raising his hand up again. “It’s not me, it’s him.”

“Of course,” Henryk said, smiling. “Nothing but the wolf here.”

“Right, you understand,” Gascoigne said. He snapped his hand forward, but Henryk was too quick, flicking his tail out of the way again. “Damnit.”

Henryk burst out laughing. Gascoigne laid beside him, face buried in the sheets. “Don’t tell anyone I just lost it over a cat tail.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Henryk said, pushing Gascoigne’s hair behind his ear. “Only because you looked cute trying to catch it.”

Gascoigne turned his face just enough to show Henryk his smile. “He thinks I’m cute?”

Henryk smiled back. “He does.”

Gascoigne shuffled closer, putting an arm around Henryk’s shoulders. “Does he think I’m handsome?”

Henryk felt full to bursting as Gascoigne nuzzled their faces together. “Devastatingly.”

Gascoigne wrapped Henryk up, chest to chest, and kissed his neck. 

“Do I need to put my clothes back on?” Henryk asked. 

“I’ll be good,” Gascoigne assured him between kisses. “Very very good.”

“Even your promise of innocence sounds a bit filthy,” Henryk told him. 

“I can’t be held accountable for your temptations,” Gascoigne said. “But I promise, if you want me to be good, I’ll be good.”

Henryk combed his fingers through Gascoigne’s hair. “For your health. Just for a little while longer.”

“Yes, sir,” Gascoigne mumbled. 

He turned onto his back and pulled Henryk on top of him, running a hand aimlessly over Henryk’s skin, only  _ occasionally _ touching his tail. Henryk settled quickly under the shifter’s soft touch, feeling content for the first time in ages. They were together, as safe as they could be, healthy and under the protection of the most powerful people in Yharnam. 

He could hardly believe it himself.

“Henryk,” Gascoigne said as he threaded the tail between his fingers. 

“Yeah?” 

Gascoigne rested his chin on top of Henryk’s head. “I had meant to tell you something when we were at the theater. I can’t say it means much now considering how everything turned out.” He gave a short laugh, though Henryk’s pulse had quickened at his quiet voice. “Maybe you won’t believe me but, had things stayed quiet that night… I was gonna make you an offer.”

Nerves flooded through Henryk. He took the collar of Gascoigne’s shirt in hand, rubbing at it for no reason. “What kind of offer?”

Gascoigne very lightly drew Henryk’s tail between his fingers. “I was going to offer to talk to Ludwig about us, but only if you wanted me to. I would have assured you that if he tried to pull some bullshit and get you tossed out, that I’d come with you.” He let go of Henryk’s tail, dropping his hand to Henryk’s shoulder blade. “I wanted you to have a nice night just in case we wound up in a place where shifters don’t matter. Of course… I was also going to tell you that—” he swallowed. “That I wouldn’t have judged you if you wanted to just end things cleanly. If things were too messy for you.”

Despite the pounding of his own heart, Henryk picked himself up so he could look at Gascoigne while he said, “And I would have assured you that walking away isn’t an option anymore.”

“Before you knew about any of this magic, though?” Gascoigne asked, the doubt in his eyes so awful to see. “If you knew there weren’t any consequences? My health aside—”

Henryk put his hand on Gascoigne’s mouth, rushing to erase that pained expression from his face. “I would have told you that I don’t care about magic. I don’t care about shifting or power or the damn city. I care about you.” Watching the doubt leave Gascoigne’s eyes was worth the fear of admittance as Henryk kept talking. “I’m not going to tell you that I need you. I’ve spent my entire life learning how to be on my own so that I wouldn’t  _ need _ anyone. But I—” He had to remind himself to breathe, holding that sharp blue gaze. “I want you. I think I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything. It’s overwhelming sometimes.”       

Gascoigne exhaled, his breath warm on Henryk’s fingers. 

“But it’s…” Henryk searched for the right words. “Also the best feeling I’ve ever had. I don’t want to let it go.”

Henryk felt Gascoigne smile so he dropped his hand to see it.  

“Yeah,” Gascoigne said, sounding a little breathless. “I know what you mean.”

Henryk laid his head back down on Gascoigne’s chest. “I’m not going anywhere. Not if you want me to stay.”

“‘Course I want you to stay,” Gascoigne said, arms tightening around Henryk. “I wanted you even before I knew you were some primordial being with unimaginable power.”

“Shut up,” Henryk laughed. “I’m not… primordial? Where did you even hear that word?”

“I’m sure Laurence said it to me once,” Gascoigne said, scratching the back of Henryk’s neck. “My point is that I don’t care about magic either. I was willing to fight for you back when I thought you were just a wild eyed non-shifter.”

Henryk scoffed. “You thought I was wild?”

“I  _ knew _ you were wild,” Gascoigne said. “You gave yourself away when you broke Jozef’s arm.”

“Okay,” Henryk relented. “You got me there.”

“Not to mention showing up on my doorstep the night before a full moon,” Gascoigne reminded him. 

“To be fair, I had no idea why that was a big deal,” Henryk said. “I didn’t know about passing the moon back then.” 

Gascoigne went quiet, hands still, and Henryk realized his mistake. Of course, now he knew what it meant and they hadn’t talked about it.

Henryk quickly pulled himself back up to look at Gascoigne. The man actually looked  _ embarrassed _ . They both rushed to speak. 

“I don’t—”

“I just—”

Henryk laughed as Gascoigne scrubbed a hand over his own face. 

“Who told you?” Gascoigne asked, eyes covered. 

“Brador,” Henryk said.

Gascoigne sighed. “‘Course he did.”

Henryk pulled Gascoigne’s hand away from his eyes and— _ god damn _ — Gascoigne’s face had just tinted a shade of red. He met Henryk’s gaze.

“I don’t want you to think that I expect anything,” he blurted out. “I know it’s not the same for you and that’s fine.”

Henryk was positively mesmerised by Gascoigne’s sudden nervousness. Henryk spoke softly. “Be honest with me. What exactly does it mean for a wolf?”

Gascoigne looked like he would cut his own arm off to get out of this conversation, the red deepening across his cheeks. He glanced away from Henryk’s eyes, but forced himself to look back at him. “Typically… it’s something wolves only do after they’ve been married— but I don’t want you to think that’s how I see it with you. You and I are different, and I know that. It’s just hard to forget something that’s been drilled into your mind since you were a teenager, you know? It’s not a big deal for me, I promise.”

It was tempting to see if Gascoigne would just keep trying to explain himself, but Henryk didn’t want to be mean. Instead, he leaned down and kissed Gascoigne. The shifter was hesitant about it, until Henryk whispered, “you’re so goddamn cute,” perfectly aware of how worked up he sounded. 

Gascoigne made a noise of surprise before Henryk took Gascoigne’s face in both hands to continue kissing him. It only took a second for Gascoigne to reciprocate, holding the back of Henryk’s head. Gascoigne pulled away so he could say, “I feel like you’re teasing me.”

“Little bit,” Henryk answered. “Just want to see how long I can keep you blushing.”

“Cruel,” Gascoigne said, eyes flashing with a mix of excitement and amusement. “You’re  _ cruel _ .”

Before Henryk could protest, Gascoigne grabbed him around the middle and flipped him over, pinning him down. Henryk started laughing as Gascoigne began nipping at his ear and neck. 

“How do I get you to purr again, huh?” Gascoigne asked, skimming his hands up Henryk’s sides.

The unusually light touch was dangerously close to setting off panicked laughter. “Humans can’t purr!” 

“Mm, I’m pretty sure you do,” Gascoigne said, fingers getting closer to sensitive skin under Henryk’s arms. “I know I’ve heard it before.”

“What’s gotten into you?” Henryk asked, trying to play off his manic smile as amusement.

“I lost time with you,” Gascoigne said. “I have to make up for it by getting as much out of you as I can and, judging by the look in your eyes, I’d say I’m close to something.”

Henryk braced himself, kind of intoxicated from the peace they were allowed here, and from the wicked delight in Gascoigne’s face. They stared each other down, Henryk’s breath coming faster as Gascoigne's fingers inched up Henryk’s flank. A knock on the door swiftly brought him back down to earth.

“Hello, hello!” Laurence’s sing song voice carried through. “I have to check up on the patient, may I come in?”

Henryk patted Gascoigne’s face. “Sorry.” He shifted into the small cat innocently staring up at Gascoigne. 

The shifter narrowed his eyes at Henryk, smiling. “This isn’t over.”

Henryk hoped not. It was unimaginably good to have him back. Gascoigne leaned down and pressed a kiss to Henryk’s head. Henryk rubbed his cheek into Gascoigne’s, relishing the quiet laugh Gascoigne gave. Henryk’s moon was brighter than ever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gascoigne introducing his boyfriend to his two dads like: Hey, this is Nyanryk. I mean, Catryk. I MEAN Henryk. Sorry...  
> Henryk, hissing in the background.  
> @oodleswrites


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for putting up with me for this long. I swear to high heaven this story is winding down.

Gascoigne answered the door with the small cat perched on his shoulders, greeting Laurence, Ludwig and Amelia. Amelia’s eyes immediately went to Henryk’s. 

“You’re looking lively,” Laurence said. “Excellent! It seems my theories were correct.” 

He bustled into the room, a bag in hand. Amelia followed him with light steps, glancing back at the cat occasionally as they set up their portable clinic on the table.

“Sit, sit,” Laurence urged Gascoigne.

Ludwig came in last, closing the door behind him. He had more clothing under his arms.

“Laurence thought Henryk might like to freshen up,” Ludwig said, laying another outfit on the table, including a pair of boots. “Perhaps these will fit better than the last.”

Gascoigne took the clothes and carried Henryk into the bathroom. “You can wash up here, just don’t abandon me for too long. I want you to meet Amelia properly.”

Out of sight, Henryk shifted, grabbing Gascoigne’s hand before he could leave. “She’s your sister?”

“Adopted, yeah,” Gascoigne told him. 

“Are all the wolves your family?” Henryk asked. 

“Sorta.” Gascoigne smiled, squeezing Henryk’s hand. “Don’t hide in here all day.”

Henryk sighed, letting him go, though a new type of anxiety was now taking hold of him. This he never thought he’d need to worry about: meeting someone’s family.  _ Have mercy. _

He could hardly appreciate the beautiful room he was in as he washed up, though he did love the warm water on his skin after so many stressful days. It was tempting just to stand under the water for hours, but Gascoigne was waiting. The clothes he dressed in seemed entirely new rather than borrowed, a pair of tan pants much higher in the waist than Henryk would ever elect to wear and a white button up shirt that he needed to tuck in or else it looked silly— not to mention the tall laced boots that wouldn’t be conducive to fighting, but were probably considered very fashionable. If he wasn’t about to officially meet Gascoigne’s sister he might have taken a moment to notice that these clothes were actually doing him favors, but at that moment all he cared about was not looking like the asshole who broke into this house. 

He tiptoed out of the bathroom and approached the others. Gascoigne was seated on the couch, Amelia perched on the table across from him. She appeared to be checking his vitals. Laurence stood close by, arms folded, smiling.

“Look at my lovely wolves,” he said, eyes bright. “Amelia, fast becoming an incredible doctor and Gascoigne, as unkillable as he’s always been.”

Gascoigne laughed, looking over at Henryk. “Apparently that’s my only skill. Come here.” He patted the space beside him. “Surely you can think of one other thing I’m good at?”

“Strange, I can’t seem to remember anything at the moment.” Henryk sank onto the couch, wondering what the protocol was. He kept a few inches away, but Gascoigne wasn’t having it as he looped his arm around Henryk’s shoulders, pulling their sides together. 

“Not a single thing?” Gascoigne asked. 

Henryk wanted to meet his smile, but the three other people in the room kept him from relaxing. “Fish,” Henryk said.

Gascoigne’s brows knit together. “Fish?”

“Not everyone can prepare it, but you cook it well,” Henryk said. “That’s a skill, right?”

His eyes went wide as he remembered the days when he thought he was caring for a stray cat. “Ah, that’s right.”

“You’ve learned to cook?” Laurence asked, clapping. “He really is all grown up, isn’t he?”

“I cooked before I came here, you know?” Gascoigne said to Laurence. “I just didn’t have all the fancy tools. Or an actual kitchen. Maybe ‘cooking’ is a bit of a stretch, but I ate…”

Amelia gave a soft laugh. “You were half as thin as you are now when I met you, so forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

Gascoigne grinned at her. “And you were twice as picky, but I don’t hold that against you.”

“I like you well enough,” she said. “Hand, please.”

Gascoigne gave her his free hand which she held against her knee as she searched for something in her supplies. 

“Amelia, you should meet Henryk,” Gascoigne said to her. “You’ll probably be seeing more of him in the future.”

Amelia’s pale blue eyes flicked up to Henryk and back down to Gascoigne’s hand. “Hello there. Sorry if I seem a bit distracted. I’ve… never met a cat before.”

Henryk felt his face go warm. “It’s okay. Nice to meet you, anyway.”

Her lips barely registered with a smile. “Here it is.” She removed something from the bag and proceeded to prick Gascoigne’s finger so as to catch a drop of his blood onto a piece of paper. 

Laurence took it from her. “I’ll use this to confirm that the poison is cleared from you, but everything seems well as far as I can tell.”

Amelia nodded, giving Gascoigne a pat on the head. “Out of the woods. Stay there for me, would you?”

He chuckled. “I’ll do what I can. Henryk has my back, so it should be alright.”

“Yes,” she turned to Henryk again. “I can’t thank you enough for saving him.”

Henryk was going to respond, but she stood and brushed the front of her skirt down. “If all is well, then I should probably return to school. I think I’ve missed enough as it is and I have hours to fill at the clinic.”

“It was lovely to see you, my dear,” Laurence said. “You’re doing splendidly. Please, do come back soon.”

“I just need to take this next exam and then I’ll be home for a little break,” she said, offering a curtsy. She faced Ludwig. “Thank you for keeping in touch with me. I’m glad I was able to come and see everyone.”

With her hands on her hips, she looked at Gascoigne. “Maybe come and see me more than a once year, Coin? Now that you’re out on your own, you’ve no excuse not to come and say hello more often.”

Gascoigne smiled. “I’m a busy man, but I’ll see what I can do for you.”

She hurried out of the room with another goodbye at the door. Laurence made a small noise once she was gone. 

“I didn’t think about that,” he said quietly.

“What?” Gascoigne asked.

Laurence caught Henryk’s eye. “The wolves will have to get used to your scent. Gascoigne, what was it like when you first met Henryk? Did he upset you at all?”

Gascoigne laughed. “No, quite the opposite. I don’t think he’ll  _ upset _ the wolves. Intrigue, maybe. I also just think Amelia is a little jealous. She’ll come around when she gets to know Henryk. And when I tell her to get over herself.” 

Laurence gave Gascoigne an almost-stern look. “Don’t push her too hard.”

“Oh, you know it’s true,” Gascoigne said. “She just wants another sister. Now she thinks she’s going to be fighting Henryk for my attention. She doesn’t realize it’s different from when you bring home a new wolf.”

“Still,” Laurence looked at Henryk. “Your scent is unique to shifters. It may confuse some of the younger ones. They’re just not used to anyone having such a  _ profound _ presence. If they cause you trouble, it’s best to give them a wide berth until they settle.”

Henryk nodded, not entirely sure what that meant. 

“Well, after a moment in my study, I’m sure I’ll be able to give you the all clear,” Laurence said to Gascoigne. “Henryk, would you mind coming with me? I’d like to begin catching you up.”

“Sure,” Henryk said, rising to his feet, glad now that Ludwig had provided him with shoes.

“Can I come?” Gascoigne asked, taking Henryk’s hand.

“If I could have a word with you,” Ludwig said, taking the armchair across from him. “I have a few messages from your office.”

“Never mind,” Gascoigne said, letting him go. Though he still wrestled with awkwardness from being in this place, Henryk wanted to match the way Gascoigne showed his affection. He figured the more they did this, the easier it would be to feel comfortable. Henryk brushed his fingers over Gascoigne’s cheek, coaxing a smile out of the man, before he went to Laurence.

Laurence nodded at him. “Yes, this way.”

They left the room, heading back toward the study.

“My young friend, you and I have much to talk about,” Laurence said, lowering his voice just a bit. “You see, if things were simple, then your power would work exactly as mine does and I could give you a lecture and have you understand, but things are not as simple as I would like. After our talk yesterday, Ludwig was able to help me determine that the rune I translated for you is, in fact, an entirely different rune then when I first recorded it.”

Henryk tried to follow along. “So…I’m guessing that means that when my parents were alive, the rune said something different?”

“I believe so,” Laurence said. He opened the door to the study once again, where he began assessing the blood sample Amelia had taken from Gascoigne. “Apparently I have records of what each rune translates to, but I have no memory of the texts themselves, of course. Ludwig had to remind me several times through the process what I was even looking for. A tedious thing—bless his patience. After reading my old notes, I was able to find the defunct translation, as it no longer holds any power. It was a much more aggressive sentiment. Furthermore, I was also able to determine that my own rune is different than it once was.”

Henryk watched Laurence as he studied the blood sample, dripping another liquid onto it and watching a reaction bubble across the paper.

“Yes, clear of all poison,” Laurence said. He sighed, coming to stand in front of Henryk. “I had no idea that my own power had been affected by everything. My instinct is that, after my confrontation with Oedon, my rune changed into something else. When I first had that dream of a god, it was a bloody one. After all, those of us who had been chosen were those who would help drive back the scourge of beasts, but now… I am no warrior, I’m sure you can see. I had my time, and my wolf, but no more. My rune seems to reflect that. I have no idea what it means, truth be told. It is my puzzle to solve, but, I suppose the point I am trying to make is that our power is dictated by our actions. I was never able to see it before, but this may well be where corruption is born from. It isn’t the power that changes us, but how we use it will shape it’s effect and intent. Is this making sense at all? Ludwig tells me I have a tendency to ramble.”

Henryk almost smiled. “I think so. You’re saying that our power changes because of us, not the other way around. It… adapts to us.”

Laurence nodded. “Yes, precisely.”

Henryk turned to look at the chart on the wall. “Can I ask you about Byrgenwerth? Willem, the headmaster, said something strange to me.”

“Oh,” Laurence chuckled. “That old codger is still going on about the lake, isn’t he? Willem is a bit like Micolash in some ways. He wants so badly to understand everything, but he wasn’t meant to see. That lake has undoubtedly been altered in the past by one of us originals. It’s plain for me to see— it emanates energy— but it is only an echo. Whoever did what they did, it was long ago, but Willem has convinced himself that there is something still in that lake. His blind worship has altered his mind. He formed a one sided bond with whoever left their mark there and it has extended his life far beyond its natural course.”

“It seems like Micolash thinks there’s something there as well,” Henryk told him. “He got in touch with Willem a few years ago, but Willem turned him away.”

Laurence tapped his chin in thought. “I see one of two possibilities. Either Willem has convinced Micolash of his own delusions, or something has taken up residence in the lake since my absence.”

“How much does Micolash know about all of this?” Henryk asked. 

Laurence sighed. “He knows what I am, about the dream the originals shared, and he knows about my conflict with Oedon. Asked me constantly to see the place where we fought as if any good could come of it. I stopped telling him so much after that. He wanted to try to use that foul magic for good, but foul magic will always be foul.”

A shadow had passed over Laurence’s face and Henryk could tell talking about this troubled him to his core. 

“I shouldn’t have told him anything,” Laurence said quietly. “It started with an interest to help half-breeds, but he obviously hasn’t stopped there. He had a theory that the reason half-breeds aren’t able to complete their shifts is because of an imbalance between mine and Oedon’s magic within them. I admit I encouraged him to explore these theories, but he lost sight of that goal so quickly. He tries to fix things that aren’t broken.”

Laurence was staring at nothing as he spoke, one hand worrying at the end of his white ponytail. “I know he is lost to me. He severed our connection years ago. I can feel my wolves, you know? The ones who are still mine, but Micolash is gone. And, even though Gascoigne is right here, I cannot feel him either. But I trust that you’ll keep him safe.”

“I’ll do my best,” Henryk told him, chest tight. “He’s kind of hard to keep out of trouble, though.”

Laurence chuckled. “Right you are.”

There was a knock on the door and Ludwig called, “Are you two still in there?”

“Yes,” Laurence answered, going to open the door for him. “Sorry, I got carried away again.”

“Color me surprised,” Ludwig said and Henryk recognized that warmth again. 

Gascoigne was there too, properly dressed, trying to see past Ludwig. 

“You’re all clear by the way,” Laurence said to Gascoigne. “Which means you’re free to return home whenever you’re ready.”

Gascoigne smiled at Laurence before he offered a hand to Henryk. “Walk me home?”

Henryk had to laugh, weaving their fingers together. “It’s kind of a long walk.”

“I’ll carry you if you want,” Gascoigne said, pulling him closer. “Or we can take a carriage. Whatever you prefer.”

“Come back soon, please,” Laurence urged Henryk. “I want to help you get this under control before you risk another confrontation. I know it would be selfish of me to expect you not to try and apprehend Micolash, so we should take what time we have to figure this out.”

Henryk nodded. “When can we start?”

“I’ll free my schedule for you tomorrow morning if you like,” Laurence said. 

“I’ll be here,” Henryk told him. “Thank you.”

Gascoigne started leading him away. “Come on. Let’s get going before it’s dark out. I miss my own damn house.”

“Language,” Laurence scolded with a smile as they walked away.

Henryk went with Gascoigne, taking one last look at Laurence and Ludwig. That sadness was back on Laurence’s face as he said something too quiet to hear. Before they turned the corner, Henryk thought he saw Ludwig put his hand underneath Laurence’s chin.

“Slow down,” Henryk said with a laugh as Gascoigne pulled him faster down the hall. 

“You kidding?” Gascoigne grinned. “I can’t get you out of here fast enough. This place smells too much like wolf and I want you all to myself.”

Henryk caught up to him as they rounded another corner, only to find himself right up against Gascoigne. The man surprised him with a kiss, hands warm on Henryk’s body as he guided Henryk against the wall. Every gentle thought went out the window and Gascoigne sighed into him. “You smell so fucking good. And those clothes? Maybe I’m just desperate but I feel like I’m going to lose it if we don’t get out of here soon enough.”

Henryk smirked, plucking at his shirt. “You like these?”

“Yes,” Gascoigne said, sliding a hand down the back of Henryk’s pants. “You should wear whatever the hell these are more often. Your ass looks great.”

“You  _ are _ losing it. You know we had a whole room back there?” Henryk asked, pointing down the hall where they had come from. 

Gascoigne chuckled and led Henryk toward a set of stairs. “You and I, here? Nah.”

“Why?” Henryk asked, genuinely curious. “You seemed all but ready a little while ago.”

“I knew you’d be too much of a rule follower not to stop me,” Gascoigne said, which Henryk glared at him for. They breezed out the front doors and headed toward a row of carriages waiting around. Gascoigne signaled to the closest one, giving his address to the driver before opening the door for Henryk who climbed inside. 

Gascoigne shut the door and sat beside Henryk, winding his arms around Henryk’s waist. “There’s no way I’d be able to do what I want do to you without every wolf in the Upper Ward knowing about it.”

Henryk liked the wicked look in Gascoigne’s eyes and it was just what he needed to let go of any self consciousness so he pulled Gascoigne in even closer with a hand on his face. “What exactly do you want to do to me?” Henryk asked.

Gascoigne laughed quietly in Henryk’s ear and Henryk felt his own hunger waking up in response. “I want to play with your tail,” he whispered. 

Henryk leaned his face into Gascoigne’s, cheek to cheek, and traced a finger along Gascoigne’s jaw as he spoke. “And why would every wolf know about it? You saying you’re gonna be loud?”

“I think we both know by now that, between the two of us,  _ you’re _ the loud one,” Gascoigne said, hands settling on Henryk’s hips. Henryk’s face went warm, but Gascoigne just pressed his lips to Henryk’s cheek. “Don’t mistake me, I love it when you’re loud, but that’s not what I meant.”

Henryk met his gaze. “Yeah?”

“The Upper Ward is full of wolves who don’t take aconite and who have very keen noses and an extra sense for…” He searched for the word, taking Henryk’s thighs in his hands. “Wildness.” 

“You’re full of shit,” Henryk said.

“Nope,” Gascoigne went on. “I’m serious. We can tell when someone’s starving and we can definitely tell when it’s getting taken care of. Why do you think I took such a risk with you in the beginning? That was part of why you smelled so goddamn good to me.”

“I thought you just knew I was gay,” Henryk said with a laugh. 

Gascoigne smiled, catching Henryk’s lip lightly in his teeth before telling him. “All I knew was that you were as hungry as I was and your scent drove me nuts.”

Henryk felt his breath hitch as Gascoigne backed him up against the carriage wall, untucking Henryk’s shirt to get his hand up under the fabric. 

“That  _ was _ a risk,” Henryk mumbled, eyes sliding shut as Gascoigne teased his chest. He tried to keep quiet even though he knew he was absolutely ready to let go of any decency as soon as they could. It was difficult not to just push Gascoigne now, but this carriage ride wouldn’t last forever.

Gascoigne set his mouth on Henryk’s neck and began to push his free hand between Henryk’s legs. “I tried to see you twice, just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke, but when I came back to you that second time, I could tell you were as pent as you were before. Maybe worse. Seemed like all you’d had was your own hand since you’d seen me.”

Henryk dug his fingers into Gascoigne’s neck, blood rushing at the man’s touch. “Maybe.”

“Did you think about me while you were getting yourself off?” Gascoigne asked, picking his head up to look Henryk in the eyes. He may as well have been high from his expression as he palmed Henryk’s cock through his pants. 

Henryk forced his eyes to stay open and focused on Gascoigne, even as heard his zipper undone. He fought off a less-than-dignified noise as the shifter met him skin to skin, and Henryk just barely managed to get the words out, “every goddamn time.”

Gascoigne reeled him in for a rough kiss. Henryk struggled not to rip Gascoigne’s shirt as he felt a swift desire to shift. He kept himself human, though, and the feeling passed, quickly replaced by the lovely heat he got from Gascoigne’s fingers aimlessly feeling him out. Surely they should be easing up, resting as they were told to, but it was just too good to stop. The carriage started slowing down and Gascoigne broke their kiss to fix Henryk’s pants. Henryk was still hard and the fit of these trousers did nothing to hide it.

“I hope you’re not planning on letting this lie,” Henryk said, straightening his shirt but not bothering to tuck it in again.

Gascoigne gave him a much softer kiss on the cheek. “I have to pay the driver, but I’d love for to you join me inside. If you’re not doing anything tonight, of course.”

Henryk held his hand up to Gascoigne. “Keys.”

Gascoigne smiled and fished them out of his pocket, isolating the key for his front door. “Don’t go locking me out, now.”

The carriage came to a stop and Henryk hurried to the house, not needing anyone else to see how worked up he was. He made sure the door was unlocked and dropped Gascoigne’s keys on the living room table before hurrying to the bedroom. God, it was so good to be back. Henryk didn’t care, just took all his clothes off and laid on the bed, hugging a pillow to his face. 

_ Us _ . That was the scent. The two of them intertwined. Animal, human, every side of them with no space between. It was the last piece of comfort that he needed and he felt all his tension finally disappear. When the front door opened again, his heart began to race. Every decisive step that brought Gascoigne closer was just more and more excitement pulsing through Henryk. They had no more reason to hide, nothing left to keep them apart or slow them down. Finally, they could do what they wanted without consequence.

The bedroom door opened and Henryk hid his face from Gascoigne in the pillow, the sudden weight of his own want crushing into him. It wasn’t just how badly he wanted to feel Gascoigne, but the want surrounding him as well. Henryk wanted Gascoigne in bed, but he also wanted him in the morning, eating breakfast together, seeing him after work, talking about books and memories, sharing a drink and the stupid things they found amusing. 

He wanted it so badly it hurt.

Gascoigne gently laid his hand on Henryk’s back and something broke inside him. Henryk felt the shift happen without any warning, no possible way he could have held it back— and he didn’t want to. He showed his face, opening his mouth to sigh with it, and it was like twenty sevens years of holding his breath finally released. 

“Henryk…” Gascoigne spoke quietly and Henryk looked up at him. He could feel that parts of his body were different but wasn’t entirely aware how yet, those spots of numbness dancing over his body again. 

Gascoigne was staring at him, eyes tinged with lust and awe. He let his hand wander over Henryk’s skin, waking Henryk back up wherever he touched. Henryk tried to close his mouth and nicked his own lip with sharpened teeth, the pain startling him. He went to touch the spot, but Gascoigne stayed his hand and Henryk found the man watching the blood well up with wide eyes, pupils dilated. Gascoigne trapped Henryk’s hand on the bed so could lick the blood away himself, cradling the back of Henryk’s head. Henryk shut his eyes again, the gentle feel of Gascoigne’s tongue like a soothing balm across the cut. The pain dwindled as if Gascoigne were knitting Henryk’s skin back together, and maybe he was. But Gascoigne didn’t stop once the blood was gone, just began to kiss and lick a path down Henryk’s face and neck to his back. 

It was like every time Gascoigne touched Henryk, he felt for the first time. Like Henryk had shed a false skin and now it was so much better. He shivered as Gascoigne kissed him between his shoulder blades, the shifter’s hands resting lightly on Henryk’s lower back, right at the spot where— _ oh _ — it was back.

Henryk gasped as Gascoigne drew a circle around the base of his tail. Every part of him felt so raw and exposed, like Gascoigne had access to his very nerves. Henryk’s legs tensed and he arched his back into Gascoigne’s hand, feeling his tail curl with it. In this inbetween state, his tail moved much more freely and easily, and it shivered with Gascoigne’s teasing. Henryk pressed his face to the pillow he’d been hugging, muffling the sounds he couldn’t stop himself from making.

Gascoigne rubbed his cheek to Henryk’s ear and that’s when Henryk felt that this, too, had shifted. The shape of his ears were different and there was fur where there hadn’t been. And Henryk could hear much clearer— every slight catch in Gascoigne’s breathing as he got closer, mouthing at the soft skin and scratching the back of his tail. The mattress dipped as Gascoigne pulled himself up over Henryk, catching him in a kiss. Henryk turned onto his side, eager to meet Gascoigne. As he felt the man’s tongue on his own, he had the thought that he would never get over this. No matter how many times they found themselves here, the simplest kinds of contact never failed to overwhelm him. 

Henryk found the front of Gascoigne’s shirt, blindly trying to undo the buttons as Gascoigne kept tasting him. When Henryk tried to sit up and get a better grip, Gascoigne pushed him gently back down. Henryk felt helpless in a wild kind of way. It made it difficult not to pounce on Gascoigne as the man settled his legs on either side of Henryk’s hips and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. Henryk was kneading the damn sheets again, watching, barely a full breath in.

Gascoigne smiled wide and Henryk could see the wolf in his teeth. “Fuckin’ look at you.” He tossed his shirt aside, taking a deep breath in before starting to undo his belt. 

Henryk sat up just a bit, on the verge of whining with this pent up need. He loved it, goddamn loved the way Gascoigne looked, the way he undressed for Henryk— not because Gascoigne thought so highly of himself, but because he knew Henryk was mad for it. This was what got him the most, the way they worked each other up before they’d gone past the point of no return. Gascoigne kicked the remainder of his clothes off the bed and leaned over Henryk, hands on either side of his head, but still not touching him. 

All Henryk had to do was stretch out his tail and he heard that little growl of impatience from Gascoigne. Despite his need, Gascoigne leaned down just to kiss the cap of Henryk’s shoulder before he guided Henryk onto his chest. Gascoigne scratched up the length of Henryk’s tail, and Henryk sighed with it, a smile curving his lips. Gascoigne kept scratching him, hitting a particularly sensitive patch of skin at the bottom of his tail where it joined with his body. Gascoigne paused with his thumb right there, massaging slowly into it, and Henryk moaned like the sound was being pulled from him, such a sudden spike of pleasure.

He heard Gascoigne shuffling through the bedside table, but all he could focus on was how badly he wanted to be felt. His body was getting warmer and his insides felt hollow and he knew the only thing that’d fix it. 

“ _ Gasc _ ,” his voice was punched out, legs sliding across the sheets. “ _ Please _ .”

Every touch made him want more, and of course, heightened that scent of mutual desire— so rich he could almost feel it. His body pulsated with unspent energy and he was on the edge of just touching himself to get it going. Gascoigne came back to him, though, kissing Henryk’s neck. 

“I’m here,” he said softly. 

The first press of slick fingers had Henryk’s legs trembling. A wave of heat rolled through his stomach, sending his thoughts into another place. No worries existed with Gascoigne inside him like this. Henryk was ready to stop using his brain anyway. Gascoigne kept kissing Henryk’s neck as he fingered him and Henryk could only spread his knees apart and murmur into the pillow how goddamn good it was.

Henryk started panting as he felt Gascoigne grab his tail and slowly pull on it. There was some kind of magic in the way that tension whited out his mind. Henryk was vaguely aware of the pleased noises he was making, the way he was pawing at the sheets, his cock still painfully hard and untouched, all the while with a blissed out smile on his face. Still, he was far too warm with all this waiting. Surely Gascoigne could feel his fever? Henryk needed it now or it felt like he’d burst.

Gascoigne paused, hands moving to grip the muscles of Henryk’s thighs. “You smell like you did during the full.”

Henryk turned to look at Gascoigne over his shoulder. The shifter looked almost overwhelmed by whatever it was he could smell, eyes shut as he breathed it in. Gascoigne’s cheek touched Henryk’s tail, and he leaned into it. As if magnetized to him, Henryk’s tail wound around Gascoigne’s throat, drawing a sigh from the wolf. Gascoigne’s pulse was a steady drum playing all through Henryk’s muscles, straight into his hips, as if he could already feel Gascoigne inside him. Henryk gave this whimper that, any other time he’d have felt self conscious about, but not here, not now. 

Gascoigne opened his eyes when he heard that noise, giving Henryk such a calm look. It was entirely unfair of him to look like he had it all under control, and to be able to do what he did to Henryk every goddamn day, and to look so fucking handsome while he licked his lips and spread Henryk apart.   

“Sorry, love,” he said, one hand skimming up Henryk’s spine, the other pushing Henryk’s tail out of the way. “Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

Henryk didn’t quite hear the words, too damn excited for what was to come, but as he took Gascoigne inch by inch, one hand braced against the headboard, hoarse affirmations wrung from his throat, it hit him. Henryk welcomed that fullness once again, and there was a brief moment where his thoughts were completely at odds with his body— the nearly unbearable pleasure of Gascoigne sinking deeper inside him, the sound of Henryk’s own relieved muttering, and the realization that, yes, he did love Gascoigne, loved everything the wolf and the man had done for him, loved him recklessly, and he’d been a fool to deny it for this long. 

Loyalty did not come close— close, so fucking close to losing it. Gascoigne was steadily rocking into him, drawing out such a high from within. Henryk could feel that aching need through every part of him— he loved every part of Gascoigne. Who the hell else could bring him to his knees, wake up the animal in him, and put a smile on his lips while he did it? Gascoigne undid Henryk, reached parts of him he didn’t know existed, such a sweet and absolute undoing. 

Gascoigne started pulling on Henryk’s tail, getting himself deeper. The contrasting sensations had Henryk gasping and he wasn’t prepared for his own break. Henryk barely kept his claws back as he came. He could feel Gascoigne’s hands on his hips threatening to shift, twitching as he drew nearer to his own release. Gascoigne slid one hand down over Henryk’s belly, back over his cock and Henryk wasn’t sure it would matter, it wasn’t the full moon, but—

“Oh fuck.” He wasn’t expecting the feeling of tightness all over again, everything drawing up in response to Gascoigne’s hand holding him, teetering, right at the edge. Henryk almost sobbed with the nearly painful reset, but the stroke of Gascoigne’s hand, haphazard as it was, brought him right back to begging. “ _ Don’t stop, please don’t stop _ .” 

The sound of ragged breathing, a steady grip around him, that hypnotic slide of their bodies. It almost felt like Henryk was dreaming, falling into another form, one that could handle this searing pleasure that burned under his skin. He heard Gascoigne’s voice tear as the man spilled over, felt his hands pass through a shift and come back to human in an instant, just barely slicing the skin on Henryk’s hips with claw. Gascoigne was far more careful where it counted, still coaxing Henryk into submission with deft fingers. 

Henryk’s whole body was shaking. He didn’t know, didn’t care, how long it’d been going on. Gascoigne eased out of Henryk, gently unwinding the tail from around his neck, so Henryk looped it around the shifter’s arm instead. Gascoigne sat beside him, but Henryk pulled himself up on shaking limbs to get closer.

“Please, just a little longer,” he asked, his skin still so hot. 

Gascoigne held the back of Henryk’s neck, giving him a wry smile. “How much more can I get outta you?” 

“You can have…” Henryk raked his hands through Gascoigne’s hair, pressing their foreheads together. “…as much as you want.”

Gascoigne’s expression slowly changed from amused to awed as he looked Henryk over. “You’re not kidding.”

Henryk kissed him on the mouth, straddling Gascoigne’s thighs, and pressing himself against Gascoigne’s chest. Even that bit of friction had him shuddering and he couldn’t help but grind his hips into Gascoigne. 

Gascoigne took Henryk in hand again, a little rough but Henryk didn’t care. “How many times have you gone off tonight?” Gascoigne asked, voice betraying his own shock.

Henryk locked his arms around Gascoigne’s head as his legs went weak. He could barely speak, head tucked into Gascoigne’s neck as he felt another wave building up, threatening to crash.  “I don’t know…”

Gascoigne loosened up his grip, holding Henryk a little steadier as he worked him. He started rubbing Henryk’s back too, easing him over the edge with much more care. All Henryk could do as the feeling hit him one more time— like a hot knife in his gut, sliding in clean and sharp— was cling to Gascoigne for stability. His vision blurred as he hung onto Gascoigne like it all he had. “ _ Oh _ .” 

“Easy,” Gascoigne said, voice soothing as Henryk came again on the man’s chest. Henryk could hear himself keening as the feeling swelled and finally faded. 

“That good for you?” Gascoigne asked.

Henryk just nodded against him as he felt the last of it pass. Gascoigne gave Henryk a second for his arms to relax before he helped Henryk onto his stomach. Again, he unwound Henryk’s tail from his body and set his hand on Henryk’s back. “You okay?”

Henryk nodded, trying to catch his breath. He did feel much better, his temperature settling once again and the roaring in his ears disappearing. Now, he was just exhausted.

“That last one seemed a little painful,” Gascoigne said. 

“Needed it,” Henryk managed, eyes shut. 

Gascoigne traced Henryk’s ear. “I don’t doubt it. Should I be worried?”

“Why?” Henryk asked. 

When Gascoigne didn’t answer, Henryk forced his eyes back open. 

Gascoigne was obviously trying to curb his surprise. “Have you always been able to do that?”

“Do what?” Henryk pressed, flicking his tail onto Gascoigne’s hip. 

Gascoigne raised his brows. “Just… keep on coming?”

Henryk tilted his head a little. “Is that not normal?”

“Usually there’s a bit more waiting involved,” Gascoigne told him with a smirk. “I assumed we were healing each other over the full moon, but I certainly can’t come four times in a row on a normal night. Does that sound about right? Four times just now? Hard to tell when I don’t have my hand on you.” 

Henryk sighed, letting his eyes close again. “I lived a long time without anyone touching me at all. I wasn’t exactly discussing my personal habits with anyone. How the hell was I supposed to know that other guys don’t do that?”

Gascoigne chuckled and laid his head on Henryk’s back. “I’m not complaining. If anything, I’m impressed.” He took to drawing shapes across Henryk’s skin and Henryk was glad his temperature was reasonable again. He could appreciate the soft feeling much more without that fever.

“Just want to make sure you’re okay,” Gascoigne assured him. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Henryk took a deep breath in, trying to take stock of himself. “I’m okay. I wouldn’t have asked you for it if I didn’t want you to.”

“I keep forgetting that you’re not like other shifters,” Gascoigne said. “Have to adjust my thought process.”

“Sorry,” Henryk muttered.

“No need to be sorry,” Gascoigne said. “I like the way we are.”

“Come see me,” Henryk said, reaching down to nudge Gascoigne’s arm. 

Gascoigne adjusted to lay beside Henryk, touching his face. “I see you.”

Henryk mirrored him, hand on Gascoigne’s cheek. “You called me love.”

There was just the slightest catch in Gascoigne’s breath. “I did.”

“You mean it?” Henryk asked.

“I don’t lie to you,” Gascoigne said simply.

Henryk started to laugh quietly. 

“What?” Gascoigne asked, holding Henryk’s chin. “Huh?”

Henryk shook his head. “Don’t you think this has been too easy?”

Gascoigne gave him a smirk. “Oh, is this easy for you?” He picked himself up to lean over Henryk’s face, still smiling. “How many times have we almost died?”

“That’s not what I mean,” Henryk told him. “That’s not  _ us _ .”

Gascoigne’s head tilted to the side. Henryk almost lost it at the sight of him doing that, just like a wolf catching a sound he didn’t understand. 

Henryk explained. “Anyone else, I might have been scared to hear them say that word. Anyone else. But you’re you. I believe you when you say it.”

Gascoigne laid beside him again, much closer, until their noses touched. He rested his hands on Henryk’s back. “I’m glad you trust me.”

Henryk ran his fingers through Gascoigne’s hair. “You’re the only one who sees all of me. I think, sometimes you see things that I don’t even know about, and yet, you’re still here. Calling me love.”

Gascoigne smiled wide. “Everything I see is good. Why would I leave?”

Henryk shrugged. “Maybe I’m a lot of work.”

“You’re effortless,” Gascoigne told him, pressing them together.

“Maybe you don’t always like my scent,” Henryk said. “Maybe a cat is a lot to handle for a wolf.”

“You still smell as good to me as you did when we met,” Gascoigne said. “If anything, it’s better.”

Henryk was grinning by then. “Maybe… maybe you’d prefer someone who’s taller.”

“Stop inventing reasons to break up and let me kiss you,” Gascoigne said. 

Henryk laughed through it, but Gascoigne kissed him for long enough that he calmed down again. 

“I need a shower,” Gascoigne said to him. “Promise you won’t break up with me while I’m gone.”

“Maybe I should go with you?” Henryk asked. “Just to make sure.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Gascoigne agreed. 

The rest of the evening slowed down as Henryk’s exhaustion settled in. He shifted the tail away and fixed his ears before getting into the shower. Gascoigne only teased him a little more at the mess Henryk had made of them both, briefly explaining that  _ usually _ even male shifters were lucky to get two off in quick succession if it wasn’t the full moon. And then there was Henryk,  _ ruining another bedspread with reckless abandon _ . Henryk swatted him for that, but Gascoigne assured him he wasn’t even a little angry. They returned to bed after Gascoigne found a clean blanket to lay on.

“Maybe you’re just getting used to your otherworldly powers,” Gascoigne said, scratching up Henryk’s sides. 

Henryk laughed. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

Gascoigne smiled. “You never know. I’d say you could ask Laurence, but that sounds like the most awkward conversation imaginable.”

Henryk shook his head. He was sitting beside Gascoigne, legs crossed, hands resting on the shifter’s chest. “Ah yes, sir, as it turns out, when your adopted wolf son fucks me, I can orgasm repeatedly with almost no physical consequence. Can you tell me about that?”

Gascoigne burst out laughing. “He’d be so embarrassed his  _ hair _ would turn red.”

“Is he a bit of a prude, then?” Henryk asked. “He told me that originals like him don’t procreate, but that doesn’t mean he can’t have sex.”

“Here’s my theory,” Gascoigne said. “He’s been alive for so long that he doesn’t remember he can.”

“You don’t think… Laurence maybe has a thing for Ludwig…?” Henryk asked, eyes narrowed. 

“Mm,” Gascoigne considered. “I think Laurence is too focused on everything else, the wolves and the city and healing. There’s no space in his brain to think about whether or not he has a crush on his bodyguard. Did you know that’s how Ludwig started? He was just the Yharnam bodyguard assigned to Laurence when he came to visit.”

Henryk smiled. “No shit.”

“Yeah,” Gascoigne nodded. “That’s what they say, anyway. The old Queen promoted Ludwig to protect this visiting lord.”

“Where is Laurence even from?” Henryk asked. 

“The coast,” Gascoigne said. “He says there’s a city on the other side of beast territory, but he hasn’t been in so long he’s not sure how they’re doing anymore. Hard to get messages across the frontier. Course, I don’t know if the stories he told me as a teenager are even true, but I like that one. I know those two care about each other and even if that means they don’t fuck, I think they do kinda love one another. In whatever way they can.”

“You think Ludwig’s gay?” Henryk asked.

Gascoigne rolled his eyes. “You know, sometimes the people hardest on you are the ones most like you. Maybe that’s why me running around with a guy pissed him off so much. He wishes he could do that.”

Henryk shrugged. “It’s hard to imagine anything other than love would keep him beside Laurence for this long.”

“Well,” Gascoigne frowned. “Laurence is clearly the reason Ludwig hasn’t aged. I can imagine someone sticking around for that, but I don’t think that’s Ludwig’s motivation. I’ve seen them interact and I think they just don’t know how to be without each other anymore.”

Henryk stared at Gascoigne. “Do you think you and I will stop aging?”

“Do you want that?” Gascoigne asked.

“No,” Henryk said. “I don’t. Living beyond my life expectancy sounds exhausting. It’s not like I look forward to getting old, but I…” He took a deep breath, trying to make sense of his thoughts. “There’s something appealing about reaching a point where I can just slow down with you.” He caught the warm look on Gascoigne’s face and bit his lip to try not to smile like an idiot. “You know… if you’re not tired of me.”

“Come here,” Gascoigne said, tugging on Henryk’s arm. 

Henryk folded into him, returning his embrace, allowing himself a silly grin as they cuddled. 

“Tell me, what am I supposed to tire of? Certainly not your beautiful face. Your intoxicating scent. The fact that you put up with my bullshit and you even sometimes laugh at my jokes. You can defend yourself  _ and  _ me. You can beat me at chess and I’ll be happy to lose because you’re very handsome when you’re feeling smug. Or am I supposed to want to trade you in for  _ can’t _ orgasm endlessly?” Gascoigne lifted Henryk’s very warm face to his. “I think I made a pretty damn good choice. Don’t you?”

“Shut up,” Henryk breathed, kissing him just to silence the compliments he didn’t know how to handle.

Gascoigne indulged him until the silliness passed and he fell asleep with strong arms around him. It seemed a perfect evening, until Henryk woke up in a panic during the night, his tail poised. He shook Gascoigne’s shoulders.

“Wake up,” he said.

Gascoigne bolted upright, pulling Henryk against him, claws out. “What is it? Is someone breaking in?”

Henryk covered his own face. “No, fuck, I’m sorry. I just forget to tell you.”

Gascoigne shifted his hands back to human, taking Henryk’s shoulders. “What are you talking about?”

Henryk reached out to him, eyes soft with sleep. “I’m an asshole.”

Gascoigne’s brow furrowed. “Hen…?” 

“I meant to tell you… that I love you,” Henryk said. “I said it in my mind but I didn’t actually tell you. I’m sorry.”

Gascoigne smiled at him. “It’s okay.”

“I’ve never done this before,” Henryk went on, babbling. “I think I’ve been talking around it in my head for a while but now that it’s okay I just… skipped the part where I actually say it to your face. And then  _ you _ said it and it just—”

“Henryk,” Gascoigne leaned their foreheads together. “You’re okay.”

Henryk sighed. “I’m sorry I scared you. If someone was breaking into your house, I’d take care of it for you.”

Gascoigne chuckled. “I pity anyone who’d try. Actually, it might be pretty hilarious, maybe I should pay someone to give it a shot.”

Henryk narrowed his eyes, fighting off a smile. “You gonna pay for their hospital bill too?”

“Yes,” Gascoigne said, kissing the bridge of his nose. “C’mere.”

He helped Henryk down, fitting Henryk’s back to his chest, tangling up their arms. Henryk shifted his tail away again. “I’m sorry I… I panicked.”

Gascoigne kissed his head. “I’ll forgive you if you tell me one more time.”

“That I love you?”

“Yeah, say it again.” There was a smile in Gascoigne’s voice. 

Henryk closed his eyes. “I love you.”

“Goodnight, Henryk,” Gascoigne said. “Remind me that this wasn’t a dream in the morning.”

“I will.”

Gascoigne gave a laugh before he settled once again. Henryk enjoyed listening to his breathing even out and feeling his arms going slack. He traced a finger down Gascoigne’s wrist to his palm and it almost felt like the wolf was right underneath the surface, following along. Henryk studied their differing skin tones, always amused at how incredibly pale Gascoigne was, compared to his own brown skin. Every part of Gascoigne was visible to Henryk, the blue lines of his veins and the off-white scar tissue that dotted almost every part of him and way he wore his damn heart on his sleeve. He really never lied to Henryk.

Henryk smiled, almost wishing he could see the wolf for a moment, but he knew Gascoigne needed his sleep. It was comforting all the same to feel the animal right there, so Henryk kept drawing circles in the palm of Gascoigne’s hand, hoping the wolf could feel him too. Maybe it was just a trick of his exhaustion, but he swore he could feel a response, a jump in the man’s pulse, just the slightest  _ hello _ . Henryk kissed Gascoigne’s arm. 

“I love you both.”

As he rubbed his thumb along Gascoigne’s skin, the feeling of connection seemed to grow between them. That thread wove through him, and Henryk watched as the wolf’s white fur rose up under his touch and then faded just as soon as he lifted his thumb from Gascoigne’s skin.

Was the wolf responding to him? Or was Henryk pulling him to the surface?

Gascoigne didn’t wake, didn’t even stir, and Henryk wondered if this was not part of their bond. He could ask Laurence when they met again. For now, sleep was too good to pass on.

 

-

 

Henryk woke up to the feeling of Gascoigne twirling Henryk’s tail around his fingers. 

“You can’t keep this back, huh?” Gascoigne asked when Henryk laughed. 

“I guess not…” Henryk said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. 

“Or these,” Gascoigne said, reaching over to touch Henryk’s ears which seemed to have reset to their feline shape in the night. 

Henryk sighed, took a breath and tried to shift them away, but it was as if they weren’t accessible to him. He blinked, touching his ears lightly. They were definitely there but something about the way they’d formed just felt as natural as his human hands felt to him. 

“I can’t shift them…” he said quietly. 

Gascoigne touched Henryk’s neck. “You might want to when you get to the Upper Ward.”

“No, I mean I can’t shift them at all,” Henryk clarified, looking at Gascoigne. “It’s like I forgot how.”

Gascoigne raised his brows. “Oh. Can you shift anything?”

Henryk inhaled and shifted into the small cat, then back to human. He touched his head, but his ears were still feline and his tail was still there. 

Gascoigne scrubbed a hand across his jaw. “Well.”

“Maybe Laurence knows about this,” Henryk said. “I should head over sooner than later, I guess.” 

“Wait,” Gascoigne grabbed Henryk’s arm. “I’ll take you there.”

“Yeah?” Henryk asked.

Gascoigne nodded. “Yes, yeah, gotta make sure you get there safely.”

Henryk fixed him with a look. “What aren’t you saying?”

Gascoigne gave an embarrassed smile. “It’s not… I don’t  _ know _ anything will happen.”

“But?” Henryk prompted.

Gascoigne almost laughed. “I know there are a couple of younger wolves up there and I just… put myself in their paws for a moment. A teenage wolf might get a little worked up by the sight of a person with visible feline traits, that’s all. But if I go with you then hopefully that’ll dissuade anyone from giving you trouble.”

“Worked up in what way?” Henryk asked, arms folded. 

Gascoigne shrugged. “I don’t… know. You’re new. But I know how I felt when I first saw you and you didn’t even have these. And I have much more control than a lot of the other wolves.”

“Are the young wolves male or female?” Henryk asked. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Gascoigne said. “Your scent isn’t gendered. It’s just good.”

Henryk narrowed his eyes. “Am I going to have to fight your siblings?”

“I hope not,” Gascoigne said. “They definitely won’t win.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've fully given in at this point. There was a time when I thought, nah, he'll just be human for this whole fic. I'll be good and only deal with the werewolf bits.  
> No. NAY! WE OUT HERE HORNY FOR CATBOYS!  
> Welcome to 2019!!!
> 
> @oodleswrites i talk a lot


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just your regular reminder that I love you all *___*

Henryk’s coat hid his tail well enough, despite the awkward fit of his pants around the edge of it, but the ears were harder to hide. His hat wouldn’t sit right and a scarf looked too unusual on him. Gascoigne wound up lending him a hooded jacket big enough that it covered his entire head. They both agreed that the more of Gascoigne’s scent he carried the better, as far as the younger wolves were concerned. 

As they were about to leave the house, Henryk took Gascoigne’s hand, running his thumb over Gascoigne’s knuckles.

“How does this work?” he asked.

“What?” Gascoigne asked, curious.

Henryk met his look. “Us. Out there. I don’t know the regular rules of dating, let alone dating a wolf. I don’t want to do anything stupid.”

“Well,” Gascoigne said, taking his shoulders. “Until we know for sure that Laurence has addressed the Watchers and Viola, let’s keep it quiet and not worry. But if anyone asks, you can tell them you’re with me. I just don’t want to piss anyone off before news has gotten around.”

Henryk nodded. “Okay.”

Gascoigne kissed his forehead. “You ready?”

“Oh,” Henryk touched Gascoigne’s face, pulling him closer. “I’m supposed to remind you that you weren’t dreaming last night.”

Gascoigne smiled. “So I can tell you I love you?”

“And I’ll tell you I love you too,” Henryk responded.

“Good,” Gascoigne said. “Let’s get going.”

They walked out into the city together to find a carriage that’d take them to the Upper Ward. Once they were on their way, Henryk asked him about the other wolves.

“Do you know all of them?”

Gascoigne nodded. “Yeah. Well, the newest one, Erik, he showed up right before I came home, so we’re not exactly close but we know of each other. I think he’s going to get stuck as Djura’s new pal now that I’ve been bumped off his list of responsibilities.”

“Who’s the oldest wolf right now?” Henryk asked.

“Probably Djura,” Gascoigne said. “He’s a stickler for rules because of it. Djura’s all proper manners and respect-your-elders kind of obnoxious, but he means well.”

“Are all the Watchers wolves?” 

Gascoigne shook his head. “Not all of them. Gehrman is technically a Watcher too, but he doesn’t care that much about it. Hardly attends the meetings as far as I know.”

“So, Erik is a young wolf. Who else lives up there that you think might give me a hard time?” Henryk asked.

Gascoigne thought for a moment. “Amelia is younger than me but she’s pretty good as far as manners go. Even if your scent is getting to her, she’s too  _ her _ to let it show. Erik might give you trouble just because he doesn’t care about  _ my _ status yet. Gremia’s supposedly been doing well, but you never know with teenagers. And… oh, right.”

“What?” Henryk pressed. They were almost at the Highest House.

“Alfred,” Gascoigne said the name with a sigh.

“Another wolf?” Henryk asked.

Gascoigne nodded. “He’s a few years younger than you. He has something going on with his wolf, though, and it makes him a little harder to handle. Less control than he should have at his age. If you see a gold wolf, don’t be afraid to get a little aggressive. When he’s human, he’s fine, but his wolf has a mind entirely his own.”

Henryk tried to remember this as their carriage came to a stop. Gascoigne got the door for him and tugged Henryk’s hood tighter over his head before they went inside. Things were bustling around the Highest House and before they ascended the staircase, someone was calling to Gascoigne.

“Captain, sir!” 

They both turned toward the sound. Henryk was surprised to see Simon, the man’s own hooded jacket covering his partially wrapped face. 

“Simon?” Gascoigne looked surprised. 

“There’s news,” Simon said. “You’re needed in the Cathedral Ward as soon as possible.”

“What is it?” Gascoigne asked, his whole demeanor changing with a few words. 

“The snake impersonating Iosefka— Brador caught her sometime in the night,” Simon said. “They’re holding her temporarily in the Cathedral Ward prison but I suspect we’ll have her moved soon. Seems too dangerous to leave in with regular prisoners.”

“Agreed,” Gascoigne said. He reached into his coat pocket and got his wraps which he quickly bound his eyes with. “I assume you’re heading there now?”

“Yes sir, we can ride together if you’re ready,” Simon said. 

“Got it,” Gascoigne nodded. He faced Henryk, mouth set in a line. “I should go. Maybe stay here until you hear from me? It’s safer, just until we know she isn’t up to anything.”

Henryk sighed, his stomach twisting up. As much as he wanted to go with them, he knew he needed to learn from Laurence just as badly. “Okay. Don’t go off by yourself either. You.” Henryk fixed Simon with a stare. “Don’t let the Captain out of your sight.”

“Sorry, who are you?” Simon asked, his one visible eye narrowed. “You’re not familiar to me.”

Henryk narrowed his eyes right back. “I’m the cat you tried to shoo out of Yahar’Gul, which, by the way, had you been successful, could have killed the Captain.”

Simon blinked. “A-apologies.”

Henryk folded his arms. “It’s fine.”

Gascoigne chuckled and put his hand on Henryk’s shoulder. “Easy now. I’ll come and get you later. We’ll see about that room Laurence wants to give you.” 

Henryk was glad to get a smile out of Gascoigne before he left. It softened the edge. “Good luck.”

“You too,” Gascoigne said before herding Simon out the front doors.

Henryk took a deep breath before setting off to find Laurence. He figured the study was the best place to check first. He didn’t want to have to talk to anyone here for fear of them seeing his ears. He wasn’t quite ready to face that expression on a stranger’s face and he certainly didn’t need any wolves after him. 

The study door was closed and Henryk couldn’t smell anything on the other side, but he knocked to be safe. 

“Hello?”

“Ah, Henryk!” Laurence responded, opening the door with a smile. “I’m very glad to see you. You look a bit dour, is everything alright?”

“I heard Iosefka’s imposter got caught,” he said.

Laurence nodded. “Yes, that is true, but every step brings us closer to the end of this mess, yes?”

“Yeah, I just wish it didn’t also put us in danger,” Henryk said. 

“Well, come in, and we’ll get right to work,” Laurence said. “You can hang your coat over there.”

He gestured to a coat rack and Henryk hesitated. “Uh, Laurence.”

“Yes, Henryk?” Laurence asked as he closed the study door.

“I’ve encountered a bit of a problem,” Henryk admitted. 

Laurence tilted his head. “With the coat rack?”

Henryk braced himself before taking the jacket off. His tail unfurled and his ears twitched with the weight of the hood gone.

“Oh,” Laurence said, face going blank. 

“I can’t shift them away,” he said. “Every time I try it just feels wrong. Going into the animal form and coming back to human didn’t help either.”

Laurence cleared his throat. “Well, now, I can see why that might be a nuisance for you. This is, oh, hm, yes.” 

Henryk wanted to groan, but he held back. “I was hoping this was something you’d dealt with…”

“Forgive me, but I have not seen this particular affliction before. Partial shifts are typically forced. Even when I could shift, I never bothered much with partials. I was an all-or-nothing kind of shifter back in the day.” Laurence approached Henryk with caution. “It doesn’t feel strange at all?”

“No, it feels the same way that the rest of me does, like it’s supposed to be there.”

Laurence tapped his chin. “Perhaps this is  _ exactly _ how you are supposed to be. With that aconite finally out of your system and with a bond established between you and Gascoigne, you may very well have found your natural resting state as half human and half original.”

Henryk considered this, hands on hips. He flicked the tail around to his line of sight, staring at the white tip, and sighed. “Maybe…”

“We can’t know, as we don’t know who you parents were, and you are something entirely new to me,” Laurence went on. “But if this form feels right, then why should you change it? If you’re embracing this part of yourself, then you need to stop fighting it.”

Henryk made a face. “Yeah, I guess so. I just don’t want to, uh, surprise anyone.”

“You are protected here,” Laurence insisted. “But I have been informed that you are quite capable of fending for yourself should someone get ‘riled’. Shall we begin?”

Henryk nodded. 

“Come here.” Laurence beckoned Henryk back to the chart of runes. “Find yours again. We are going to have to work a bit backwards on this, but I think we’ll be able to make sense of it.”

Henryk searched for his rune, finding it much faster this time. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Laurence drifted away from him, grabbing an old bloated journal off a table. “I know of the God that gave me my power. I was shown the scope of my abilities before they were even given to me. I was tested and proven. But we don’t know what god gifted what abilities to your parent. So, we’ll have to work backwards to determine which God blessed your parent.”

Henryk was staring at the rune, feeling his shoulders drop. “Can’t be too many Gods who like cats, right?”

“It is unclear to me,” Laurence said, flipping through pages. “Sometimes we had overlapping forms, as far as my notes say. It was more to do with the spirit you possessed, rather than the shape of the creature you became. Not to mentioned, some of the rules I once believed in have been broken in Yharnam, thanks to Oedon and myself.”

“What was his power about?” Henryk asked, still staring at the lines and dots of his rune. It seemed to be glowing on the paper, though that was surely just from eye fatigue. 

“Oedon was born blind,” Laurence told him. “He could shift into any winged creature, but he favored taking the shape of bats. Consequently, he also drew power from air and sound. His voice could become this hypnotic thing that he often wielded as a weapon.”

“That sounds dangerous,” Henryk said, gaze firmly glued to the rune. 

“It was,” Laurence said, voice quiet. “But, you see, his form and his power were related to him. I believe he was chosen by his God for a reason. His blindness was a trial in and of itself.”

“And you?” Henryk prompted. “Why were you chosen?”

Laurence gave a short laugh. “Well. I was an orphan like you, you know? Only, it turned me into a terribly needy young person. I believe my God chose me because I value family above all else, as I never had it growing up. It’s why I took the shape of such pack driven animals— dogs and wolves. The fire, on the other hand, was probably more to do with my need to be in motion.”

“You had… fire?” Henryk echoed.

“I used to, yes,” Laurence said. “We all had something extra. Oedon had sound, I had fire. There are others. The one I spoke to most recently has ice.”

“How recent is recent?” Henryk asked.

Laurence tapped his chin. “One… one hundred years?”

Henryk exhaled slowly, the reality of that causing him to feel dizzy. “Am I… going to stop aging too?” 

“I’m not sure,” Laurence admitted. “I don’t know how your human parentage will affect you, but I’m tempted to say that you will live as a human, considering that you’ve aged normally to this point and you haven’t had the same dream that we did.”

“When did you stop aging?” Henryk’s eyes were starting to hurt from staring at the chart. He had a thought to look away, but it slipped from his mind immediately. 

“I can’t say I noticed when it stopped,” Laurence said. “But, if it was not immediately after the dream, it must have been shortly thereafter. A year or two at most.”

Henryk nodded. It was getting harder to piece sentences together. “What about… Ludwig?”

“Ludwig?” Laurence seemed surprised by the implication. “Oh, yes, I suppose he has… outlived most humans his age, hasn’t he?”

“He looks… late forties?” Henryk said back. “Is that… how he looked when you met him?”

Laurence exhaled. “Hm. Oh.”

There was something concerning in Laurence’s voice and Henryk wanted to check on the other man, but it was like there were hands on his face, holding him still. The rune was so bright it almost hurt to look at it, but he just wanted to keep staring. There was a sense of peace to it as well, like this was something he needed to do before he could get anything else done. Studying the mark felt like embracing some kind of controlled chaos— like he was willingly stepping out into a thunderstorm, but it would be alright.  _ Yes, child, it will be alright _ .

“Henryk.”

He startled when Laurence put a hand gently on his shoulder, tearing his gaze away. 

“You’ve been quiet for a minute. Perhaps it’s time to walk away?” Laurence asked.

Henryk nodded, turning from the chart. “My head hurts.”

“Ah, yes, sit down a moment,” Laurence said, guiding him into a chair. 

The room swayed and he gladly got off his feet. “It’s not gonna hurt me, right?”

“No, I don’t believe so,” Laurence said. “But even for someone predisposed to this influence, it will not be easy to make contact.”

“Make contact?” Henryk repeated, feeling dumb.

Laurence nodded, eyes bright. “You must reach out to your God. Make contact with them, and then you will know what you are capable of.”

Henryk rubbed his eyes. “You want me to talk to a god?”

“Well, not just any god,” Laurence went on, as if that made it less daunting. “The one that gifted its power to your parent. I have a feeling you will have many questions answered this way, much more than I could answer for you.”

“You really think they’ll answer to me?” Henryk asked, glancing up at a hopeful Laurence.

“Under the right circumstances, yes, I do,” he said. “Though, I wonder if we may have to  _ induce _ certain conditions.”

Henryk frowned. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Oh, nothing painful,” Laurence waved his hand. “More of a meditative state. It’s something I used to do when I had trouble making contact. There are times when the rune isn’t enough and we must reach out more directly.”

“Meditation, huh?” Henryk leaned his arms on the table beside him. “You know my friend, Eileen, used to tell me I should try meditation to relax. She gave up about two years ago when she realized I wasn’t ever going to do it. Guess the joke’s on me.”

Laurence smiled. “I can write you a doctor’s note. Perhaps that will excuse you from losing this particular bet.”

Henryk laughed. “I’m sure she’ll tease me anyway. How does it work, then?”

Laurence took a seat across from Henryk, weaving his fingers together. “Usually, I put myself in places that remind me of my home. The place where I had my dream. It’s the sound of the ocean and the feeling of sand and, well, that’s  _ me _ . Your relaxing state will no doubt be different. The only problem, of course, is that I have no idea what your God is seeking in you, so I don’t know how to create the circumstances under which they will bridge that gap and speak to you. I have a feeling we will be going through much trial and error.”

“You think it’s atmospheric, though?” Henryk asked. 

“Well, it’s about putting yourself in a state of mind that is receptive. You want your mind as empty and open as possible. No wants and no worries. Racing thoughts restrict such a process.”

Henryk thought about it, drumming his fingers on the table. “Yeah, I’m not so good at  _ calm _ .”

Laurence chuckled. “Well, starting right now, you’re not allowed any more stressors.”

Henryk blinked. “Oh.”

“Have you made a decision about coming to stay at the Upper Ward?” Laurence asked.

Henryk nodded slowly. “I think, yeah, it makes sense.”

“Wonderful!” Laurence beamed. “Once Ludwig and Gascoigne have given us the all-clear with regards to that imposter, we can bring your possessions up here and that should help you find more comfort. Think of this as a vacation!”

Henryk wondered if that was even possible for him, but he nodded anyway. 

“May I ask you a question or two?” Laurence went on. “I feel selfish, but regardless, I want to get to know you both as someone with ties to the originals, and as the partner of one of my wolves.”

Henryk’s gaze snapped back onto Laurence, anxiety creeping back in. “What do you want to know?”

Laurence gave a most elegant shrug. “Anything. What is it that you do for fun?”

Henryk tongued on his incisor. “How ‘bout we trade? You can ask me a question and I’ll ask you one back.”

“That sounds fair,” Laurence agreed. “You first, then.”

“I read,” Henryk said. “A lot. I like… mysteries. Puzzles to mull over.”

Laurence nodded. “Very good. I’m fond of non-fiction myself, but I’ve been known to enjoy a fantastical tale, as long as it’s rooted in some kind of logic. Your turn, then.”

“Can you tell me about any of the other originals that you know are alive?” Henryk asked. 

Laurence leaned his chin on his fist. “I can’t confirm or deny as I haven’t seen any of them in ages, but I suppose… the one I was most familiar with went by the name of Logarius. We used to keep in touch fairly regularly, until Oedon resurfaced. Logarius had traveled far away, near Cainhurst, to deal with another corrupt original, and has not been able to leave since then, so he asked me to investigate Yharnam in his stead. I realized after the fact that he has most likely found himself in a similar situation as I have here. We are afraid to leave our cities, for fear of the corruption spreading in our absence. I do hope he’s alright.”

Henryk absorbed this, shaking his head. “So, you guys have been fighting each other for a while?”

Laurence tilted his head. “It is not easy to remain neutral in a world that sees you as deities, but Logarius has always tried to keep the peace among us. My turn. What kind of food do you prefer?”

Henryk had to laugh at the mundane question, but he answered regardless. They traded back and forth for a moment, Laurence adding up little details about Henryk, and Henryk gleaning a little more about this Logarius. The one who’d been the oldest when he’d had his dream, who took it upon himself to prevent corruption from spreading amongst the other originals. Now, of course, his prior middle age meant nothing to a bunch of people who’d been alive for hundreds of years, but at the very beginning, he’d been akin to a general for the others as they dealt with the beasts. 

“Maybe when this is all over with Micolash,” Henryk started. “I could go check on him for you.”

Laurence’s expression changed a few times in quick succession. “I could never ask that of you.”

“Well, I’m offering,” Henryk said. “It could be useful to reestablish contact with another original.”

Laurence considered this with a sad smile. “I agree with you, but I don’t know if he would see it that way.”

“Still, it might be worth a shot, right?” Henryk asked. 

Laurence was quiet a moment before nodding. “Yes, I do think it would be. We can discuss it more after Micolash is stopped, as you said.”

“So… training?” Henryk prompted. “Are we supposed to be doing something?”

“I’ve already told you,” Laurence said. “Our goal is to establish your connection to your God. That means  _ relaxation _ . This is how you’ll best use your time while you’re here.”

Henryk exhaled, trying not to laugh. He was preparing himself for work— physically training with his shift— not meditation and peace. 

“I can’t say I was ready for this,” Henryk muttered. 

“How hard can it be, hm?” Laurence asked.

The look on Henryk’s face made the other man laugh. 

“Ah, not one for taking it easy, are you?” Laurence chuckled. “As I said, from now on, we prioritize your mental state. You said you enjoy reading, right?”

Henryk nodded. 

“I can show you my library, if you’d like,” Laurence offered. 

“Sure,” Henryk said, feeling his confidence waver. Gascoigne was going to laugh at him if Henryk couldn’t manage the simple task of  _ calming down _ . 

Laurence stood up and pushed his chair back in. “Are you comfortable walking the grounds here? I don’t want you to feel embarrassed. I sincerely doubt anyone will tease you if you’re concerned about that.”

Henryk had almost forgotten, but as he stood and his tail fell into a slightly curled loop, he sighed. “It’s fine. I’ll get used to it. If this is how I’m meant to be, then that should make it easier to make contact, right?”

“I should think so,” Laurence said, smiling. 

They left the study and Laurence locked the door behind them, but he paused to remove a second key from the pocket of his shirt. He held it out to Henryk.

“I want you to be able to access that chart,” Laurence said. “Consider this place open to you.”

Henryk took the key gingerly. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Laurence said as he set off down the hall. “You’re welcome to pursue the texts in there as well, but they are almost entirely written in other languages. They’re mostly medical texts anyway, but a few contain my notes of years gone by.”

Henryk pocketed the key as they ventured toward the front doors. Yes, people stared at Henryk, but no one dared say anything as he walked by Laurence’s side. Right before the doors, they took a sharp left and headed toward a walkway Henryk had not been down before. 

“Gascoigne says you’re from the coast?” Henryk prompted.

Laurence nodded. “Yes, my city across the frontier. Of course, back then, cities were not nearly so grand, but it was a nice place at the time.”

“It’s interesting to me that you wound up with a wolf form as a someone who grew up near water,” Henryk mused as they crossed a stone path into a large, beautiful garden.

“We were chosen for our spirits, not for our regions,” Laurence said as they passed along the ethereal garden with blossoms as tall as their heads. “And I was not the only original from the coast, either. There is, or was, another. I haven’t seen her in a very long time. It pains me but I struggle to remember her name.” 

Henryk’s gaze was drawn to the massive flowers. This place gave off a strong energy that felt like standing in a sunspot. Laurence gestured to the garden. “Lumen flowers,” he said excitedly. “I have no idea how they got here, but this garden must have been installed in Oedon’s time. I’ve maintained it because I have not seen these flowers anywhere else before. I wonder if this is not Oedon’s magic at work, from before the corruption set in. The garden is always warm and the soil never fully dries. That’s why the flowers are so big. They’re never thirsty.”

“It feels similar to the lake at Byrgenwerth,” Henryk said. “Like something’s alive that I  just can’t see.”

“Is that so?” Laurence crossed his arms. “I… wonder if I should not return myself. It is not so far from the city that I couldn’t spare a moment to assess it.”

“Could be helpful,” Henryk said. “Maybe one of the originals is closer than you think.”

Laurence held his arms tighter, gaze on the garden. “I’ll have to talk it over with Ludwig. He always wants to keep me safe, you see. I fear for the city, and he fears for me.”

Henryk studied the vacant look in Laurence’s eyes. “It’s nice that you have him.”

Laurence blinked, turning back to Henryk, all smiles. “Well, of course. I owe him my life.”

“You do?” Henryk asked. 

“He was there with me,” Laurence said. “When I confronted Oedon. The only human by my side. I would have died had he not been there. Instead, I live on as a man.”

“Did he heal you?” Henryk asked. “The way that Gascoigne and I can heal each other?”

Laurence covered his mouth as he spoke. “Not quite the same. You two offer each other healing far more freely due to the nature of your relationship.”

Henryk wanted to press, but Laurence’s own embarrassment was clear enough and he didn’t want to sour their time together. “Well, it’s still nice that you can count on him.”

Laurence nodded, turning away from Henryk. “Yes, I couldn’t agree more. This way to the library.”

He hurried on, walking a bit faster than before. Henryk couldn’t help but smile a little. Maybe Gascoigne’s theory wasn’t too far off. 

“I admit, my library is not nearly as fantastic as the one kept in Cainhurst,” Laurence spoke over his shoulder to Henryk. “From all accounts, it has only grown more marvelous since the last time I saw it. I wish I could return, truthfully. You’ve never seen so many books in one place.”

They skirted around the garden, heading toward a small door. 

“My library is mostly for my wolves and anyone who lives in the Upper Ward,” Laurence said as he opened the way for Henryk. “Not much beyond my personal collection of medical texts and whatever novels I’ve collected over the years. I don’t weed anything out, so I’m sure there is something you’d enjoy here.”

Henryk glanced around the cozy room, fit with a couch and a fireplace. It was lined with shelves and there wasn’t an empty space in sight. Floor to ceiling books, spines neatly presented.

“Oh, someone’s been organizing in here,” Laurence sounded delighted as he squinted at the nearest shelf. “I wonder who’s been so bored…”

Henryk started wandering the library, about the size of large bedroom, scanning the titles for anything familiar.

“Feel free to take them with you,” Laurence said. “These are not so much for public display, so I don’t mind if one or two goes missing.”

Henryk smiled at the collection. “This is lovely, thank you.”

“Even if I don’t have too much time for novels, I do so love knowing the trends of storytelling. What has captured people’s imagination this decade?” Laurence laughed to himself, touching a shelf absently. “I just like being around them. Gascoigne, though, oh he read voraciously when I first brought him here.”

Henryk turned to Laurence. “Yeah?”

“Oh yes,” Laurence gave a nod. “Books and music were all he wanted. And food. But what teenage boy doesn’t want food?”

Henryk laughed. “Fair enough.”

“Does he keep books in his home?” Laurence asked, a little shy about it, as if it wasn’t his business at all. 

“Yeah,” Henryk said. “A modest collection. I read one or two of his.”

“He told me he liked anything that was vivid,” Laurence said, chin raised as he remembered. “That wasn’t the word he used, but I figured it out. He liked books with well described settings. It was very strange for him to be here at first, but having grown up in such an isolated place led him to appreciate reading about beautiful places. He never really knew how big the world was before he came here.”

Henryk tried not to look too charmed as he listened. “Was he very different back then?”

Laurence shook his head. “No, just a quieter version of himself. And skinnier. My God, he was this big when he first arrived.” Laurence held up his pinky finger for emphasis. “Skin and bones. That good-for-nothing father of his barely looked after him. Ludwig could hardly calm me when Gascoigne opened up to us about everything. I was livid, but Ludwig convinced me not to do anything about it. The man must surely be miserable enough as it is to have scared his own son away.”

Henryk wanted to ask more, but the sad look on Laurence’s face made him hesitate.

“I never really questioned why Gascoigne wanted to go off and fight,” Laurence continued. “I worried about him, and I selfishly asked him not to go, because all I cared about was knowing he was safe. But I see now, after some distance, I think he wanted very badly to know that he could help people. He was scared of the wolf for a long time, which is part of why he took weapons training so seriously. He needed to be able to fend for himself, but he couldn’t yet trust the wolf to do it for him. There was a time when he would only shift in front of me, because he knew the wolf wouldn’t hurt me. He is such a kind boy.” 

Henryk nodded, an ache in his chest, knowing it was true. 

“I worried that he would grow up angry, after all that he’d been through,” Laurence went on. “But I think I worried for nothing.”

Henryk was scared that if he started responding, he’d get emotional, so he just nodded again, feeling warm and useless. He wanted to impress Laurence more than ever, this person who had given Gascoigne refuge and clearly loved him like his own blood. All he could do, though, was prove that he cared as much as Laurence did. 

“Oh, I’m rambling again,” Laurence waved his hand in the air, a smile back on his face. “Would you like to see where you’ll be staying?”

“Y-yeah,” Henryk managed. “That sounds good.”

Laurence started chatting idly about meal schedules and how many of the wolves dined communally (though Henryk could request to eat alone) and that he’d have access to everything in the Highest House, including the library, the lumenflower garden, the  _ other _ garden, the stables, something called a  _ salon _ . There was more, but Henryk couldn’t really focus on the growing list of luxuries. He recognized the door they had stopped in front of.

“I thought this was Gascoigne’s room?” Henryk asked.

Laurence nodded. “Yes, well, I thought it might comfort you to stay in a place that smelled familiar. Is that alright? I’m sure he won’t mind.”

“Yeah,” Henryk said, embarrassed by the simple pleasure. “It’s good.”

Laurence opened the door for him. “Perhaps you would like a moment to yourself? I have thrown quite a bit at you.” 

“Yeah, thank you,” Henryk stepped through the doorway, but he stopped. “Actually I have one more question.”

“Yes?” Laurence waited, bright eyed.

“Uh,” Henryk swallowed, trying to get the words out. “When… will everyone know… that Gascoigne isn’t betrothed?”

Laurence’s eyebrows jumped up. “Oh, yes, I should take care of that, hm? I’ll sort it for you today if I can. And remember,” Laurence added with a smile. “Relaxation is key. Do some thinking on what environment might comfort you most and we can provide you with the right place for you to try making contact.”

“I will,” Henryk promised as Laurence shut the door.

Immediately, he exhaled with a huff. 

_ Vacation. Right. Because that always goes so well. _

After staring into space for a moment, he wound up stepping out onto the balcony, but it was getting colder and colder outside as the seasons shifted and the chill made it unpleasant, so he retreated back into the room. At the very least, it did smell like Gascoigne and that was a good start to put him at ease. Henryk removed the key Laurence had given him from his pocket and set it on the nightstand before he began examining everything that was here. 

Another full bookcase of well-loved novels, a shelf of records with various symphony recordings, a writing desk, a closet, the table and chairs and couch, and the bathroom. Henryk poked his head back in the bathroom, taking a moment to actually realize how goddamn nice this room was. 

And a large tub. 

He laughed to himself.  _ Step one. _

There was nothing beyond the desire to sit in warm water, so he immediately started the faucet and poked around a collection of fancy smelling soaps, shaving supplies, bottles of cologne and what appeared to be additives for the bathwater— salts and oils and such. It made him laugh. Gascoigne himself had a single bottle of cologne in his bathroom that he hardly bothered to wear. The shifter used the same soap every day. Henryk was glad for it, of course. Nothing to muddle the wolf’s scent that Henryk loved.

He shed his clothes and got into the water. As if reacting all on its own, his tail shifted away. Henryk laid back and closed his eyes. Yes, he could get used to this place if he were allowed such a comfort whenever he wanted.

Curiosity got the better of him and he leaned over the edge of the tub to check out the additives again. He pushed the bottles and containers around, smelling some of them and reading the little labels.  _ For soft skin. For sore muscles. For sound sleep. For headaches. For energy. For calm. _

Henryk glared at the label on the bottle  _ For calm _ , sniffing at the contents. Lavender and something earthy. He held onto the bottle for a while, debating if it was bullshit or not, before quickly adding a pinch of the contents to the water and shoving it back into place, as if he’d broken a rule. 

He sank back down, counting every sore muscle in his body. It had certainly been a wild couple of days, and it wasn’t over by a long shot. The Iosefka imposter finally caught. Henryk’s eyes went wide just at the thought. Brador caught her, but was it an act? Simon didn’t bother mentioning if Brador was even okay afterwards. Did that mean Micolash was still in the city? 

With a groan, Henryk rubbed at his eyes. This wasn’t helping. Whatever Laurence was hoping, Henryk knew he wouldn’t be able to magically find peace of mind while there were still so many unanswered questions. Frustrated, he drained the water and dried off, his tail effortlessly shifting back into place. As he dressed, he got frustrated all over again by the fit of his pants around his tail, the way the waist was pushing into the base of it. He had half a mind to go find Laurence and ask if anyone in this mansion could tailor some clothes for him, but he realized that he had no clue where Laurence would be and couldn’t identify the man’s scent. Henryk wasn’t even sure Laurence  _ had _ a scent. 

Instead, he went to steal a book from Gascoigne’s collection. Minutes of reading through the titles, he realized none of these were going to be distracting enough at the moment, so he ventured back out to the library. Surely he’d find something more to his taste there. It was easy enough to remember the way, though his own anxiety was steadily rising with every step he took by himself. Without Laurence as a barrier, he felt every pair of eyes he passed by. It seemed like people were too busy to bother, so he just walked faster to get away from the populated main hall.

Back in the lumenflower garden, things quieted down again. The blossoms gave off just the subtlest scent and it was nice amidst the chaos of this packed house. And despite the fact that this room was open to the outdoors, it was warm enough that he didn’t need his coat as he passed by. 

Right before the door to the library, Henryk caught a person’s scent. He frowned and reminded himself that Laurence gave him permission to be here. He opened the door, pretending not to be interested in the young man seated in front of one of the bookshelves across the way.

“Oh, hello there,” the man called, turning to wave at Henryk. His blond hair framed a boyish face, though the sweater he wore did nothing to hide his massively broad shoulders. His eyes snapped onto Henryk’s ears and his smile faltered for an instant before he recovered himself. “You must be… the new person. Laurence said there was someone important staying with us.”

Henryk had to laugh at that. “I’m not that important, I promise.”

The man smiled. “Well, regardless, let me know if I can help you find anything. I’ve been organizing in here a little.”

Henryk turned to the shelves again. “How is it sectioned?”

“I’ve tried to keep the most recent titles to the right of the fireplace,” he said. “It’s by author as well.”

“Thanks,” Henryk said, gravitating toward the newer books. He quickly scanned for anything familiar, found a title he’d been dancing around in bookstores months prior, and grabbed it. 

The man smelled like wolf. Henryk could tell much easier now, thanks to Gascoigne. But this particular person seemed harmless. He was cleaning underneath old tomes in the corner of a library for heaven’s sake. He hardly seemed like the trouble Gascoigne was so concerned about. He must be older than he looked.

“Do I need to tell anyone I’ve got this?” Henryk asked, holding the book up.

The man shook his head. “Oh, no, just return it when you’re done. Let me know if you like it. Been eyeing it myself.”

“Yeah, me too,” Henryk said. “I’ll, uh, report back.”

“Have a nice evening,” the man said and gave another wave as Henryk left.

Were all the older wolves that polite? As Henryk walked back to his room, feeling less self conscious, he caught a familiar scent before he heard several voices in the front hall. Henryk quickened his pace, rounding the corner that led to the main entrance. 

“Good news, then,” Ludwig was speaking to Simon and Gascoigne. “We can discuss it further in my office.”

Gascoigne turned to see Henryk, offering a wide smile. His wraps were still in place, but Henryk could read his relaxed stance easily enough. No immediate danger then.

“Hey, you should hear this too,” Gascoigne said as Henryk got closer.

Ludwig and Simon both gave a  _ slight _ reaction to Henryk, Simon’s one visible eye widening and Ludwig merely giving an unnecessary adjustment to the collar of his shirt.

“Come on, let’s get going then,” Gascoigne urged, heading up the stairs. He put a hand on Henryk’s shoulder. “How’s it going?”

Henryk almost laughed. “About as well as you might expect.”

“So,” Gascoigne nodded with a smirk. “Probably better than you think.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a new player has entered the fray: Logarius!!  
> And... a sweet blond boy? WHOEVER COULD IT BE?!  
> i swear this is winding down! I SWEAR!
> 
> @oodleswrites <3


	26. Chapter 26

Once the four of them were inside Ludwig’s office, Henryk finally asked for details.

“Brador’s report is, well, unpolished,” Simon began. “But according to him, he went to investigate the sewers on a whim and met up with a Confederate down there. The two of them discovered a body in the aqueducts underneath the Great Bridge. The Confederate thought she was wounded and when he rushed in to offer aid, the woman shifted into a snake and attacked. Brador recognized her as the imposter and the two of them apprehended her and delivered her to the Cathedral Ward before morning.”

“Brador’s okay, right?” Henryk asked.

Simon gave a nod. “He was able to act quickly, knowing who they were up against. He and the Confederate are fine.”

Henryk glanced between Simon and Gascoigne. “Was the imposter doing this intentionally? Do we think Micolash is still in the city as well?”

“No,” Gascoigne said, voice reassuringly firm. “I get the sense she was left behind. She kept trying to justify it, like he was going to come back for her, but I don’t think he can. It sounds like he stranded her here to throw us off his trail. She had a mind to cause us some trouble after getting abandoned but now her shift is deteriorating. Seems like she needs some kind of medicine to keep it together but only Micolash has it.”

Ludwig made a noise. He was leaning against his desk, eyes slightly narrowed, staring at the floor. “So this imposter is not a true shifter after all?”

“She’s definitely been experimented on in some way,” Gascoigne said. 

“An impressive work,” Simon noted with disdain. “Her scent has fooled all of us.”

Gascoigne shrugged. “She smells like one of us, but she’s experiencing some kind of physical breakdown like all the other experiments have.”

“You haven’t gotten any useful info about MIcolash out of her, have you?” Henryk asked.

Gascoigne shook his head. “Not yet. But, I have a feeling as this deterioration gets worse, she might open up a little more. Once she’s had enough time to understand that Micolash screwed her over. I told her if she wants to talk, I’ll be happy to make some kind of deal with her to get her treatment. All she has to do is ask for me when she’s ready.”

“So… you think we’re okay for now?” Henryk asked, releasing his anxious grip on himself. He didn’t realize how tightly he’d been digging his own fingers into his arms.

Gascoigne nodded, finally pulling his wraps from his face. “Yeah, this clearly didn’t go the way Micolash wanted it to. Pretty sure you’re to thank for that.” His gaze was a relief to meet and Henryk let his breath out.

“Good,” Henryk said. “I’m happy to fuck up his plans.”

“Is there anything else we can do while we wait for Iosefka to turn sides?” Simon inquired. “Anything to speed this process along?”

“Actually, I want to go back to Byrgenwerth and see if we can’t dig up anything more helpful,” Henryk said.

Ludwig nodded. “You are certainly free to make those inquiries, but we’ll need to arrange for your proper protection.”

“Uh, actually,” Henryk started, facing Ludwig fully. “I want Laurence to come with me.”

Ludwig’s gaze went stone cold. “Absolutely not.”

“I’m sure you can rustle up enough men to keep us both safe,” Henryk pressed. “Something is up with that lake and I’m not attuned enough to all this bullshit to figure it out myself. It has to be Laurence.”

Ludwig didn’t let up his rather intimidating stare. “Perhaps with more training, he can instruct you—”

“I have no clue how long this training is going to take and Micolash is just going to keep sending us his experiments in the meantime,” Henryk rushed to speak, folding his arms. “I don’t want to put him in danger either, sir, but I think if you talk to him about it, he’ll  _ want _ to go. He feels responsible for Micolash. It might clear his conscience a little if he can help us.”

“That is for us to decide,” Ludwig said, enunciating unnecessarily clearly. “I appreciate your input.”

Henryk held his breath to keep from arguing further, and Gascoigne swooped in with a hand on Henryk’s shoulder, “If that’s everything?”

“Dismissed,” Ludwig said, finally turning his gaze from them. 

Gascoigne practically pulled Henryk from the room, Simon following close behind to shut the door. 

“You know, I remember the last time someone offered to  _ escort _ Laurence off the grounds,” Simon said, voice lowered as if Ludwig could hear through the walls. “They have not been invited back to the Upper Ward.”

“He knows as well as I do that Laurence is tied up in this,” Henryk said back. “I’d take care of it myself, but I don’t know how.”

“I have a feeling I shouldn’t ask too much,” Simon muttered. “But… let me know if I can be of assistance. I know Brador also wants to help you along as much as possible.”

“Thank you,” Gascoigne’s voice was genuine. “I’m glad to finally be able to work with Ludwig’s quietest soldier. How long have you been with him?”

Simon’s visible eye hinted at his surprise. “Coming up on five years, I believe.”

Gascoigne smiled. “Anyone who stays with him that long is definitely trustworthy. I’ll be sure to let you know if I need you.”

Simon gave a short bow. “Thank you, sir.”

“I’m sure you don’t care,” Henryk added, sticking his hands in his pockets. “But Brador is only more of an asshole to the people he likes most.”

Simon considered this with an unreadable expression. “Enlightening. Perhaps he should care more about his career than his own personal hierarchy.”

Henryk had to laugh. “He doesn’t  _ need _ this job. He’s only here because he likes working for you.”

“I assumed he wanted to stay close to you,” Simon admitted. “And remain in his medical trials. Flattering, but I don’t believe I factor into his decisions.”

“You do,” Henryk replied with a shrug. “You must be a good boss. Either that or…”

Simon’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“Nothing,” Henryk said. “Don’t worry about it.”

Simon straightened his posture, and very quickly licked at his lip, like it was a nervous habit. Henryk recalled Brador mentioning that Simon could  _ smell _ with his tongue. “Very well. I should head out. Good evening to both of you.”

“Yeah, see you around,” Gascoigne said. 

The man turned and walked quickly toward the front hall. Gascoigne waited until he was out of sight to give Henryk a wicked smile. 

“You’re terrible,” he said. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Henryk replied, fighting off a smile. “Just trying to secure Brador’s place at his job.”

Gascoigne put his arm around Henryk’s shoulders, leading him away from Ludwig’s office. “Oh, yes, how very gallant of you. Absolutely no ulterior motives here.”

“No, sir,” Henryk said. “I’m just a humble public servant, trying to look out for my friends.”

“Yes, I see now exactly why you two are friends in the first place,” Gascoigne said, still grinning. 

“All I did was try to help Simon understand how Brador thinks,” Henryk said. “It won’t be my fault if Brador gets himself fired for trying anything stupid with his boss.”

“Yes, you’ve exonerated yourself cleanly,” Gascoigne said, pulling Henryk closer, speaking softer. “Is that why you didn’t come work for me? Didn’t want to get  _ involved _ with your boss?”

“That might have been part of it,” Henryk said. 

“Do you think, in another life, you’re trying to seduce your employer?” Gascoigne asked quietly as they passed someone by.  

“No,” Henryk said. “But you, trying to seduce your subordinate? Absolutely.”

Gascoigne feigned indignation, narrowing his eyes. “I would never.”

“Of course not,” Henryk said. “And I surely wouldn’t be powerless to your charms.”

“Do you think we’d have fucked in my office by now?” Gascoigne asked. 

“Do you need a cold shower, Captain?” Henryk asked as they crossed through the entrance hall. “There are people around and I wouldn’t want to break your own rules about not having fun in this place. You know I’m being put up in your old room. It smells like you and I’ve been so lonely.”

“He’s torturing me again,” Gascoigne said as they headed in that direction. “My own partner. I’ll never survive this cruelty.”

“You were right about the bathroom,” Henryk whispered. “Very beautiful. It’s a shame you’re so excitable or I’d invite you to share my brand new bathtub.”

“Taking possession of my things,” Gascoigne said, all smiles. “Teasing me in my own home. Risking my reputation. Did you put something on, by the way? Your scent is a little different. Not that I’m paying  _ that _ close attention.”

“That bathroom is full of strangely scented things,” Henryk answered. “Good or bad?”

Gascoigne glanced around the hall they were in before catching Henryk around the middle and kissing his temple, his cheek rubbing against Henryk’s ear. “Good.”

Henryk smiled. “Anything in there I should avoid?”

“I’ll show you,” Gascoigne said, voice dropping. 

“Careful,” Henryk warned, hand on the man’s chest. “Apparently your reputation is on the line.”

Gascoigne let him go, returning his arm to Henryk’s shoulders. “I’ve worked very hard to get to a place where the other wolves respect me.”

“What, are you the alpha male around here?” Henryk taunted. 

Gascoigne chuckled as they approached Henryk’s room. “Something like that.”

He held the door for Henryk, following him in. There was a bundle of clothing and other supplies on the table which Henryk inspected while Gascoigne took off his coat. As Henryk read the note that had been placed beside the pile of things:  _ until you have your belongings back, some clothes to tide you over. I promise I don’t usually barge into people’s rooms while they aren’t in. L _ Gascoigne picked Henryk up off the ground, holding Henryk against his chest like it was nothing. 

“I can walk you know,” Henryk said as Gascoigne carried him into the bathroom.

“Yes, and I can carry you all the same,” Gascoigne responded. “Besides. I like carrying you.” 

Henryk pushed his fingers through Gascoigne’s white hair, messing it up a little before pressing his face to the top of the shifter’s head, taking a deep breath. “I missed you today.”

“I missed you as well, though I’m glad you were spared from my conversation with that woman,” Gascoigne admitted. He sat down on the edge of the tub, setting Henryk back on his feet. “You don’t need to see her again.”

Henryk traced Gascoigne’s face. “I imagine you displayed admirable restraint while talking to her.”

Gascoigne showed his teeth with a smile. “Valtr said the same thing, ya know? Lauded my  _ diplomacy _ toward the sociopath that abducted you.”

Henryk kissed Gascoigne between his eyes. “I’m glad someone was there to sing your praises.”

Gascoigne pulled Henryk closer by the hips. “I was honestly happy to see Valtr. At least someone in the room knew what I couldn’t say to her. But of course, it had me thinking about you all day.” He rested his face on Henryk’s shoulder, breathing deep. “We’ve fought very hard, haven’t we?”

Henryk held him tightly, nodding against him. 

“I know you don’t like it, but I’m kind of glad you’re up here right now,” Gascoigne admitted, face pressed to Henryk’s neck. “At least I know you’re safe. I know that’s selfish of me, but it doesn’t make it less true.”

Henryk knew exactly what he meant, which was part of what made staying here so hard for  _ him _ , but Gascoigne knew. Of course he knew. 

“I’ll be glad when this is over,” Henryk said quietly.

Gascoigne finally kissed him and it would have been bearable, except that Gascoigne ran his hand up over Henryk’s head and gently rubbed at his ears. 

Henryk moaned through the kiss, taken by surprise by how good that soft touch felt. Without thinking, he opened his mouth to taste Gascoigne and the man responded at first, guiding Henryk’s body in closer between his thighs. Henryk’s heart was pounding at the feeling of their tongues and that mindless voice in his head was roaring with a sudden need to get close, mess him up, make him know that he was Henryk’s—mate? That word had never been in his thoughts before, but it sang through him as they tangled closer. Quickly, though, Gascoigne took Henryk by the neck to pull them back apart. 

“Did I hit a nerve?” he asked. "All the smells in here getting to you?"  


Henryk gave a breathless laugh. “Guess so.”

“I’ll try to be more careful,” Gascoigne said, letting him go.   


Henryk sighed. “You really think people would stop respecting you for sleeping with your own partner in your own room?”

“It’s not just me, you know,” Gascoigne said. “I don’t want anyone giving you shit either, especially when you’ll be here without me.”

Henryk tried to ignore the warmth that was still rising up through him. “I guess that’s reasonable, but how  _ aware _ would they really be? Would everyone know that  _ you and I _ were up to something, or would it just be known that something was going on somewhere in the house?”

“I’ve known most of these people for years,” Gascoigne said, bringing Henryk’s hand up to his face. “They all know  _ my _ scent. And when a wolf is with their partner, their scent gets stronger. It’s like a chain reaction. If one of us is riled up, it makes anyone close enough to smell worked up as well. Anyone living here would know, and they’d get pissed at me for indulging when they can’t. Not to mention,  _ your _ scent changes a little when we’re together, so they’d definitely know you and I were up to something.”

“Seriously?” Henryk asked, curiosity piqued. “How does it change?  _ When _ does it change?”

Gascoigne smiled. “It’s subtle. Sometimes, there’s this extra layer to you. Like the way you can smell a storm on its way. Sometimes I don’t catch it until we’re already a mess. But I always like when I can smell it before I’ve even touched you. Like you think you still need to convince me to get close to you, as if I don’t want you all the time.”

Henryk pulled Gascoigne’s face against his chest, murmuring into his hair. “You’re driving me crazy.”

Gascoigne chuckled. “Sorry. It’s just kind of an unspoken rule around here. Don’t fuck where you’re entire family will know about it. Unless you’re trying to send a message.”

Henryk rolled his eyes. “What message would you want to send?”

Gascoigne shrugged, leaning back to meet Henryk’s gaze. “That you’re taken. And very happy about it. And your partner is incredibly satisfy—”

Henryk put his hand on Gascoigne’s mouth again as the man laughed. “Alright, alright.”

“Forgive me.” Gascoigne hugged Henryk loosely against him and Henryk leaned into Gascoigne’s side, taking his hand while trying to keep his touch calm. 

“I’m sure we could manage to have a nice time here and keep it under the radar,” Henryk said. "Maybe try one of these silly bath oils."  


Gascoigne grinned, weaving their fingers together. “Your faith in me is truly endearing. Just don't open the one for 'energy' or you'll have a world of trouble.”

"What is it?" Henryk asked, glancing at the bottles on the shelf.

"It's meant for couples," Gascoigne whispered. 

“Did Laurence stock my bathroom with an aphrodisiac?” Henryk asked.   


"Like I said," Gascoigne smiled. "He's a bit out of touch. The others are fine, though. I used to use the one for sore muscles. Not sure if it's bullshit or not, but at least it tricks you into thinking it's working. Now, tell me what you and Laurence are up to. I assume since you don’t have any more cat parts, it’s been fairly tame?”

Henryk rolled his eyes, remembering his impossible task. “Let’s get out of this bathroom and I’ll tell you.”

They sat side by side on the couch and Henryk tried to explain the idea of making contact with whatever god had gifted this power to him. Recounting the story of it was more complicated than he realized, and he was sighing through half his words, as if the weight of it were crushing into him.

“That sounds like a lot of pressure,” Gascoigne said, running his hand down Henryk’s neck.

Henryk breathed. “Yeah… I guess it’s a lot to think about.” 

“And you’re still trying to make light of it,” Gascoigne noted. “Come here. I promise I’ll be good.”

Henryk came closer, letting Gascoigne pull Henryk into his lap before the shifter put his feet up and leaned back into the arm of couch. Henryk laid on top of him, loosely draping his arms over the man’s chest. Gascoigne started lightly scratching around Henryk’s ears.

“So you need to contact a god,” Gascoigne said, a smile in his voice. “No big deal.”

Henryk had to smile too. “Right. Easy.” 

“How does Laurence propose you do this?”

“He said I’m not allowed to be stressed,” Henryk told him. “He wants me to meditate basically. But.” Henryk wrapped his arms tighter around Gascoigne. “The only time I’ve been able to stop thinking like that is when I’m with you.”

“Well,” Gascoigne chuckled. “Maybe you can use that to your advantage.”

Henryk pressed his face to Gascoigne’s chest. “Does that mean you’ll skip work and help me?”

“No can do,” Gascoigne told him and reached his hands down to press into Henryk’s wound up shoulders. Henryk let his arms go limp as Gascoigne started rubbing his back. “But I’ll do my best for you when I can. No one’s given you trouble, right?”

“Nope,” Henryk said, speaking slowly. “Seems pretty quiet around here.”

“Good,” Gascoigne said. “Should I let you get some rest?”

Henryk held him tighter. “Stay.”

“Alright then,” Gascoigne’s voice went soft. “I’ll stay.”

Henryk was only conscious of the feel of Gascoigne’s hands for a short while until he fell asleep. The next thing he knew, Gascoigne was carrying him to bed. He forgot where he was, only aware of how warm he felt. He was drawn to Gascoigne like a moth to flame and started kissing his neck, hand tracing over his chest.

“Oh, you are hard to say no to,” Gascoigne mumbled as he set Henryk down on the bed.

Henryk pulled him in, seeking out Gascoigne’s lips in a haze. Gascoigne allowed one kiss, pressing Henryk down onto the bed, before he broke away.

“You need to sleep,” Gascoigne said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Henryk shook his head, disappointment rushing in as he realized he wasn’t home. “Will you stay a little longer?”

Gascoigne smiled. “Promise you’ll be good?”

“Yes,” Henryk said. “I just don’t want you to leave. I got used to sharing a bed.”

Gascoigne pulled the covers back and Henryk gave a relieved smile. Henryk waited for the man to take his shoes off, loosen the collar of his shirt and settle in before he got as close as he could get. Gascoigne wrapped him up again.

“You okay?” 

Henryk nodded, reassured by Gascoigne’s presence. “I don’t know why but I feel a little… possessive. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mind,” Gascoigne said quietly. “Long as you keep your promise.”

Henryk nodded against him. “I just want you here.”

“I’ll stay,” he said again, pressing a kiss to Henryk’s head. “My house always feels empty without you anyway.”

The fever subsided with the satisfaction of keeping Gascoigne beside him. They talked idly for a little while, until Henryk’s eyes grew heavy and his words became mumbling and soft. He had a vague dream but, once he woke, all he could remember of it was the feeling of rain on his skin.     

Gascoigne was curled around him, deeply asleep. Henryk wondered if he’d meant to stay until morning and felt a little guilty for having kept him. His tail had wound up loosely wrapped around Gascoigne’s wrist. Slowly, he started to extricate himself, hoping not disturb the sleeping man, but as soon as Henryk sat up enough to get a look at his face, he felt compelled to get close again. He felt like a child, overwhelmed by this need he couldn’t get a handle on. He kissed Gascoigne’s cheek, which opened the door for touching his hair, and before he could stop himself, he was licking Gascoigne’s ear, as if to groom him.

The shifter started laughing. “Hell of a way to wake up.”

“Sorry,” Henryk bit his own lip to stop and leaned away. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

“S’okay,” Gascoigne told him, stretching his arms above his head. “You sure you’re good?”

Henryk shrugged, watching the way Gascoigne’s arms tensed and released. “I feel fine. Maybe a little worked up, but… I hardly think that’s worth diagnosing.”

Gascoigne laughed and sat upright. “We can take care of that after I get off work in my own house. While I’m here, though, I may as well get some free food. You want to grab something with me?”

Henryk nodded, brain latching onto the first part of that sentence.  _ Good.  _

Gascoigne wound up taking some of his old clothes from the closet and Henryk put on some of the new clothes that Laurence had provided him. It was the same style as before, which Gascoigne didn’t miss as Henryk held the trousers up to see. 

“Did he give you ripped pants?” Gascoigne came over and pointed to a rather deliberate hole in the fabric.

“Is this… for my tail?” Henryk asked in disbelief. 

“Only one way to find out,” Gascoigne said, eyes lit up.

Henryk gave him a shove before trying the pants on. Gascoigne helped him thread his tail through the hole and Henryk wasn’t sure if he should feel embarrassed or relieved that they fit perfectly. 

“Laurence works fast, I’ll give him that,” Henryk said. “They are comfortable…”

“I guess you’ll just have to wear them all the time,” Gascoigne teased, pulling him in for an appreciate hug. “ _ All the time. _ ”

Henryk burned all too nicely at this talk. “Careful or I might push you too far.”

Gascoigne sighed, removing his hands from Henryk’s ass. “Fine.”

They were both surprised to hear a knock at the door. “Henryk! I don’t suppose you’re hiding, are you?” It was Laurence.

“No, not like that,” Henryk called back, going to open the door. 

Laurence looked relieved when Henryk greeted him. “Oh, good, I was worried that you were too anxious to come and get your food. Oh! My boy, I didn’t know you were still here.”

Gascoigne leaned his arms on Henryk’s shoulders. “I wanted Henryk to feel more comfortable on his first night here.”

“How sweet of you,” Laurence said, hands clasped. “The clothes fit you, Henryk?”

Henryk nodded, turning to look at his tail. “Yeah, they do.”

“Excellent. I’ll have more made for you. I’m not sure there’s anything to be done for your ears, but if you think of anything, do let me know. Would the both of you care to join me for breakfast? I was just going to head down to the dining hall.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Gascoigne said. “Thank you.”

The three of them walked together through the halls. Henryk wound up between the two of them, one of Gascoigne’s arms a comforting weight around his shoulders. 

“Laurence, sir, has everything been cleared up by now with regards to the betrothal?” Gascoigne asked. 

“Yes, Ludwig himself actually volunteered to let the girl and her family know. I sat down with Djura yesterday evening. He’s meeting with Erik later today to introduce himself more formally.”

“Maybe Djura can teach Erik some manners,” Gascoigne said with a smile. 

“Is he so bad?” Laurence asked.

Gascoigne sighed. “Nah, he’s just an asshole teen, he’ll get over it. Hopefully Djura will make him get over it faster.”

Laurence  _ tutted _ at that. “I haven’t spent much time with the boy myself. So much going on these days. I should make an effort to see him. And Alfred. Oh, the poor thing is still struggling with his wolf. You know, we never have nearly as much hardship with the girls we bring here. You boys are a world of trouble.”

Gascoigne smiled at Laurence. “My sincerest apologies.”

“Oh, but always worth the effort,” Laurence responded with a smile. 

Even though Henryk couldn’t add to the conversation, he didn’t mind. He liked watching Gascoigne with Laurence. The obvious familial affection was sweet. 

“And good news for the both of you,” Laurence went on as they turned down a hall Henryk hadn’t been down before. “Ludwig and I have talked about your proposal to investigate Byrgenwerth.”

Henryk felt sheepish. “He’s not mad at me, is he?”

Laurence gave a soft laugh as he pushed open a large set of doors. “Not at you, young man.”

They entered a large open room that felt like it belonged in some fancy school. There was a table at one end laden with food that people were serving themselves from. The rest of the room was full of round tables that people were sitting at. This was probably where everyone who lived and worked in the Highest House ate their meals. Henryk was immediately hit by the smell of wolf.

They all looked at him. 

Henryk felt his ears twitch, but Gascoigne kept him moving. 

“This way,” Laurence said quietly, guiding them toward the front of the room. Gascoigne only released Henryk so they could get their food. It almost reminded Henryk of eating in Loran with all the other boys. This found family, bonded only through one man. It made it easier to think of it like that. Really, wasn’t the Highest House just a strange, beautiful orphanage?

“I wouldn’t worry about suffering Ludwig’s temper,” Laurence said to Henryk as they moved down the table of food. “He is mad at himself more than anyone. I feel your suggestion has only made him believe that he has been inattentive to me.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Henryk said. 

“Oh, I know,” Laurence said, patting Henryk on the shoulder before leading them toward an empty table. “But, he did not like to think that you knew something about me that he did not know.” 

Laurence took a seat at a small table, and before Henryk could think about picking a chair, Gascoigne very subtly pulled on his shirt to stop him. Henryk paused, looking at him with furrowed brows, until Gascoigne set his food down just to pull out a chair for Henryk. 

“After you,” he said in whisper that Henryk might not have been able to hear with his human ears.

Henryk couldn’t parse the pleasant embarrassment he felt at this gesture, taking the seat in full view of the entire room of wolves and other shifters. He wound up draping his tail over the back of the chair to keep it off the floor and out of his way.

“What a gentleman,” Laurence declared, looking absolutely delighted. He sat down as well, and Gascoigne was the last to sit, with Henryk still between him and Laurence.

“So Ludwig’s a little jealous is what you’re saying,” Gascoigne remarked.

Laurence waved his hand. “Oh, come now. It’s not like that. I think he’s just feeling pressure to be everywhere at once and has begun to think he’s neglecting me. No ill will for you, Henryk. I’ll talk to him again later today, and afterwards, I’m sure he’ll come to agree that my return to Byrgenwerth makes the most sense.”

Gascoigne offered a smile. “You have to admit, though, the old man’s not used to having someone around who steals your attention.”

Laurence gave a quiet scoff. “You sound like you want to start trouble, young man.”

“I would never,” Gascoigne said. “Right?” He nudged Henryk’s arm. “I’m a rule follower. A good man.”

Henryk couldn’t help but smile. “Don’t drag me into this.”

“Can’t even get you to lie for me,” Gascoigne said with a shake of his head. 

“You  _ are _ a good man,” Henryk added quietly. “I don’t have to lie.”

“Oh, Henryk, have you given any more thought as to your ideal meditative conditions?” Laurence asked, as if this were a normal thing. 

Henryk gave a defeated laugh. “I was… kinda hoping you could help me brainstorm. I really don’t even know where to start.”

Laurence nodded. “Perhaps Gascoigne can help as well, while we have his ear. Where is it that you find yourself most comfortable?”

Henryk wasn’t about to answer _ Gascoigne’s bed _ , so he shrugged. “Uh, at home?”

“Do you prefer warmth?” Laurence went on.

Henryk nodded. 

“Isolation or groups?” 

“I…” Henryk stopped himself from saying isolation. That wasn’t really true anymore, was it? “I think it depends,” he admitted.

Laurence considered this. “Do you prefer silence or noise?”

Henryk found himself looking at Gascoigne without thought, and the shifter smiled. “You don’t mind when I talk to you endlessly.”

“I like when  _ you _ talk,” Henryk replied. 

“Oh! Would you two excuse me a moment,” Laurence quickly rose from his chair as he watched Lady Maria enter the dining hall. “I was hoping to catch her.”

“We’ll wait,” Gascoigne said as Laurence thanked them and scurried off. 

“He is scatterbrained, yeah?” Henryk asked. 

“Oh yes,” Gascoigne agreed. “Selectively.”

Gascoigne was giving Henryk this pleased look, chin on his fist, relaxed and Henryk was about to tease him for his doe eyed expression when Henryk swore he saw a chill wash over the shifter. In one swift motion, Gascoigne rested one of his boots on the bottom rung of Henryk’s chair and hooked his hand on the backrest, very near Henryk’s tail. The shifter kept his body angled toward Henryk, but his gaze cut over to someone approaching their table. 

“Rumors are true, then.” There was a young man standing there, arms folded, head tilted. He had the look of an obnoxious teenager, which made Henryk assume it was Erik. “You left your pretty girl for…” Erik fixed Henryk with a stare, eyes not no subtly taking in his ears, which put a weird smile on his lips. His nose twitched as he said. “Whatever you are.”

Gascoigne inhaled, clearly deciding what to say.

Henryk, on the other hand, wasn’t interested in hearing him out. Erik was obviously young, arrogant and not interested in listening. Henryk knew the type all too well, which meant he knew how best to make him listen— him and any other stuck up shifter.

Henryk moved quickly, his chair making an ugly scraping sound as he got to his feet. Erik may have been taller, but he wasn’t expecting Henryk to physically grab him. The young wolf let out a yelp as Henryk grabbed his arms, quickly manipulated Erik into a hold Henryk could manage on such a lanky body, with Erik’s head tucked down under Henryk’s bicep.

“What the—” Erik ineffectually slapped at Henryk.

“Just as I suspected,” Henryk said. “You’re not trained at all, are you?”

“Let me go,” Erik snapped. 

Henryk felt him threatening to shift and  _ tsk’d _ in his ear as he bent one of Erik’s arm back just on the edge of overextension. “If you shift now, you’ll break your arm. You need flexibility and I’m stronger than I look. You see, unlike cats, wolves and dogs are very stiff.”  

Erik grit his teeth, which had begun to partially shift, though he was fighting off a full body reaction. He stopped pulling away from Henryk and instead snarled in Gascoigne’s direction. “Get your cat off me.”

Gascoigne grinned. “You think I tell him what to do?”

Just to drive home his point, Henryk applied a little more pressure to Erik’s uncomfortably bent arm. “My name’s Henryk, by the way. What’s yours?”

Erik exhaled sharply. “Erik.”

“Erik, it’s nice to meet you,” Henryk said, pivoting so the young wolf could see Gascoigne better. “Do me a favor. Next time you want to interrupt me when I’m having a nice time with my partner, just remember that I know exactly how to handle a wolf. And when I let you go, and you consider shifting just to get an advantage on me, I certainly won’t be able to stop Gascoigne from putting his teeth around your throat.”

Erik’s nostrils flared, but he didn’t say anything. 

Henryk let him go, immediately putting distance between them just in case Erik decided to be stupid, but the kid rolled his shoulder just to make sure it was alright before he folded his arms over his chest and stared at the floor. His olive toned face was flushed.

“You…” he huffed once before meeting Henryk’s eyes. “Where did you learn to do that?”

Henryk took his seat back at the table. “With the Confederates.”

“C-can they teach shifters?” Erik went on, his eyes going wide. 

Gascoigne was barely concealing his own laughter. Henryk raised a brow. “If you prove that you’re a good candidate, I’ll think about putting in a recommendation for you. Valtr is very particular about who he teaches.”

Erik shrugged. “Well, you know. If he wants a student. Or whatever.”

“Get lost, pup,” Gascoigne said. “He said he’d think about it.”

“Right,” Erik said, backing up. “Uh, bye.”

As soon as Erik was far enough away, Gascoigne leaned in to Henryk’s ear. “I think you just earned yourself a suitor.”

“He’s too young,” Henryk said back. “And too skinny.”

Gascoigne smirked, lowering his voice. “I shouldn’t get so fucking turned on watching you fight, but here we are.”

Henryk breathed in deep through his nose and all he could smell was Gascoigne. “Now who’s torturing who?”

“Wanna go a round later?” Gascoigne asked. “One on one. First one to break a bone wins.”

“You’re already killing me,” Henryk said, his heart racing. 

“Sorry, boys,” Laurence came blustering back to the table, pulling out his chair. “I simply had to ask Maria a question. I keep missing her.”

“I hear she’s pretty hard to catch,” Gascoigne said back, facing Laurence, but resting his hand on Henryk’s knee. “Everything alright?”

“Oh, yes, just a silly thing I’ve been looking into. Where were we?” Laurence asked, bright eyed.

“Meditation,” Gascoigne said, looking at Henryk again and running his thumb lightly over Henryk’s leg. “If I were you, I’d recommend some kind of noise. As far as I can tell, you’re not a big fan of empty silence. You need something going on or you just start to think too much.”

“Just  _ enough _ distraction to keep your brain from becoming over eager.” Laurence nodded a few times. “Warmth and some noise and familiarity. It’s a good start.”

“I’m glad I could help,” Gascoigne said. “I should probably get going. Henriett’s expecting me and she gets mad if I’m late.”

“As she should,” Henryk said. “No one likes to feel ignored.”

“I’m glad I got to see you,” Laurence said to Gascoigne. “Anytime you’re around, feel free to come say hello.”

“Of course,” Gascoigne said. He took Henryk’s hand, back to a soft touch. “Do you want me to meet you here tonight? We can get a ride back to my place if you like.”

“Yeah,” Henryk said, reaching up to tuck some of Gascoigne’s hair behind his ear. 

Gascoigne smiled, squeezing his hand. “Let me know if anyone gives you trouble.”

Henryk let Gascoigne go, feeling that possessive knee jerk reaction to try to make him stay, but he fought it off. The shifter left the dining hall, but not without catching a few people on his way out to say hello to.

“Well, if you’re ready, I’d like to get started early today,” Laurence said to Henryk. “I’ve got an idea for you.”

Henryk met his gaze. “Yeah, let’s get to work.”

Laurence wagged his finger. “Not work, remember. Relaxation with intent.”

“Right,” Henryk sighed, his shoulders already retaining tension.

 

-

 

Laurence brought Henryk to a quiet wing of the Highest House, below the main floors. 

“As you might imagine, having a lot of wolves in one place can get a little chaotic, so I’ve done my best to give them places to find calm,” Laurence explained as they walked. “I find that the wolves often become lethargic in response to warmer temperatures, so I had this area constructed with that in mind. It helps ease the tensions around the full moon.”

The air was getting warmer as they progressed, until Laurence opened a door and Henryk was hit by a wave of heat. He blinked against it. 

“Woah.”

Laurence nodded, eyes bright. “In truth, I also wanted a sauna for my own sanity. This is a tradition in my home city. Yharnamites don’t naturally take to such high heat, but I adore resting here from time to time. Perhaps you, too, can find some peace of mind.”

Henryk stepped into a dim room with shelves and hooks for clothes and shoes and a changing screen set up in the corner. There were more closed doors with little tags hanging off the handles that read  _ vacant _ in pretty script. His mind already felt like it was slowing down from the heat. 

“Yeah, maybe this is a good place to start,” Henryk said. 

“The only problem is that it’s quiet down here,” Laurence said. “Maybe we can figure a way to get some music playing for you. For now, though, I’d like to continue talking with you.”

“Sure,” Henryk said, already sweating. 

Laurence smiled and guided Henryk over to the changing screen. “As few layers as you’re comfortable with. You won’t be able to relax if you’re embarrassed. Go on, I had some things provided for you.”

Henryk stepped out of sight and saw a small table with a few articles of clothing on it for maximum exposure to the steam. Maybe it was the heat, or the fact that Laurence was hundreds of years old, but Henryk decided he didn’t much care what the other man thought and stripped down to a pair of small black shorts that were fitted enough not to bother his tail. 

When he stepped out, Laurence pointed to one of the vacant doors. “Have a seat inside. I’ll be right there.”

Henryk opened the door and was nearly bowled over by the steam. He took a deep breath and stepped inside. It was like walking through water to get to the bench along the wall. As soon as he sank down onto the wooden shelf, the desire to move vanished. He didn’t even want to open his eyes.

Laurence shut the door behind him and set a few things down. “Feeling alright?”

“Yeah,” Henryk said. “It’s like I’m already asleep.”

“Yes, that’s a good start,” Laurence said. He had merely put on clothes fit for a summer day, still in a shirt and rolled up trousers. Henryk found he didn’t have the energy to ask how he wasn’t sweating to death. “Close your eyes for me.”

Henryk happily did.

“I’m going to add something to the steam,” Laurence said. “Don’t be alarmed at the smell. I’ve developed a solution using lumenflower nectar that some people find distasteful.”

A floral scent wafted through the room, as if carried in on a breeze through an open window. 

“It’s kinda nice,” Henryk admitted.

“Good,” Laurence pressed on. “What does it make you think of?”

Henryk breathed in the sweet smell. “Like childhood… but not mine.”

“Whose do you think?” Laurence asked.

Henryk shrugged. “Maybe someone who spent a lot of time inside looking out.”

“Why do you think they would have been stuck inside?” Laurence asked, voice as light as always.

Henryk leaned his head against the wall, body heavy. “Illness? Protective parents? Anxiety? Any number of reasons.”

“Which one feels like the right answer?”

Henryk inhaled slowly through his nose. “Illness. Outdoors were seen as dangerous.” 

“And this person, do you think they went outside anyway?” Laurence’s voice was beginning to feel disconnected from its source. As if the man were speaking directly inside Henryk’s head. 

“Maybe.” Henryk smiled at the thought. “Yeah, definitely.”

“What would they do out there?”

Henryk could picture it: wandering through gardens that weren’t his, feeling the grass under his feet, plucking the prettiest blossoms off stems because no one bothered to tell him that it would kill the flower. He just wanted to be closer to the colorful things. 

Getting caught by a caretaker, secreted back inside, the blossom stowed in a pocket for later. 

He tried to describe it to Laurence. 

“Very good,” Laurence encouraged him. “You had a bond with someone there?”

“Yeah, a nurse, I think,” Henryk said, not thinking twice about the way he was speaking. “She was the youngest one. The only one who listened when I was said I didn’t care about dying.”

Images bloomed in his mind. Steady hands helping him through a house. Braiding flowers into his hair. Staring at the same room for years, bogged down by a mysterious illness that no one dared to name in front of him. 

“This nurse was probably the first person you told about your dream,” Laurence said.

Henryk felt a hand on his, but when he flexed his fingers, nothing was there. “The only one who wasn’t scared of me. She told me to flee. I asked her to come with me.” His brow was furrowed as a feeling of panic rose up through him. “It wasn’t just a full moon, though. It was a storm. A bad one.”

The steam was morphing into the feeling of rain pelting his skin. He hated the rain, but he never minded the thunder. Or the lightning.

“What does your rune look like?” Laurence’s voice was very far away, but Henryk still heard it. 

He set his hand on the wooden bench and began to trace the shape of it. He could picture it, but he wasn’t sure if it was exact. The more he went over the lines and dots, the more right it felt. It felt full,  _ energetic _ . Crackling along his skin, replacing the water with electricity. 

A feeling like pins and needles swept over Henryk’s body and he startled, eyes opening. His gripped the bench and gasped, needing to fill his lungs with air. 

“What the… hell was that?” he asked, glancing up at Laurence. 

Laurence was smiling. “Your ancestor, saying hello.”

Henryk stared. “Do you know who they are?”

“Yes,” Laurence nodded. “I can remember her now. She told me to call her Pearl. Said it was easier in my language. Pearl had the power of an electrical storm at her beck and call. She was integral to our struggle against the beasts, but she had no interest in humanity outside of the pockets of it that made her happy. Been centuries since I saw her…”

“They were two women, though?” Henryk asked. “Pearl and her bond.”

Laurence nodded. “Yes.”

“So… where the hell did I come from?” he asked.

Laurence tapped his chin. “An interesting question. One I fear you cannot answer without making contact. Still, this is an important step toward that goal. We may know where your animal and your elemental affinity lies. Leaps and bounds of progress!”

“I think I need a minute,” Henryk muttered, rubbing at his eyes. 

Laurence chuckled. “I’ll wait for you outside, then.”

“Yeah,” Henryk said. “Thank you.”

“Take your time,” Laurence assured him. “This is a great development. You should be proud.”

Henryk just nodded, wrestling with that sharp feeling and the exhaustion all at once. Laurence left the room and Henryk shut his eyes again, trying to come back down to reality. He couldn’t tell anymore if the steam was helping. Fighting for balance, he rose to his feet, his tail limp and his legs weak. He leaned his shoulder against the wall and tried to focus on breathing in this heavy air. After three deep breaths, he tried to stand up straight again. The room tilted a moment, but Henryk grit his teeth. 

_ Let me go. I have shit to do. I need to be okay. If I can’t spend the night with Gascoigne I’ll go insane.  _

Another breath, and the room settled around him. 

“Thank you,” Henryk muttered aloud before he left.

“Everything alright?” Laurence asked as Henryk reemerged.

He nodded. “I think so.”

“Good, good,” Laurence said. “Why don’t you get dressed and I’ll make sure you get back to your room safely.”

Henryk went behind the changing screen again. He didn’t mind Laurence’s concern. It was sweet, in a parental kind of way. As he stepped back out, Laurence held his arm toward the exit, all smiles. 

“You do carry yourself like a doctor,” Henryk said to him. 

Laurence gave him a surprised look. “Is that so?”

Henryk nodded. “You allow for weakness without making it into a big deal.”

Laurence made a considerate face. “Well. I think that is a compliment?”

“It is,” Henryk said as they left the warm air. He felt his head clearing up as the temperature leveled out. “Good bedside manner. The last thing I want when I feel bad is to be made aware of how bad I feel.”

Laurence crossed his arms, looking proud. “I’m glad to hear I’ve handled this well.  _ Some _ people think I’m rather out of touch with humanity.”

Henryk smiled as they emerged from the lower level, back near the entrance hall. “Maybe you’re a little outdated, but you’re still human,” Henryk said. “Empathetic. Isn’t that what healers are all about?”

As they crossed the main hall, Henryk saw Ludwig’s unmistakably rigid posture waiting at attention a few paces ahead. The man’s gaze swept over them both only to snag on Laurence. Ludwig put his hands in his pockets, which would have been innocuous enough on anyone else, but on Ludwig it felt far too casual. 

“You’ve been in the sauna?” he asked.

Laurence smiled. “Brilliant deduction. And we’ve made excellent progress.”

“Good news,” Ludwig said, voice uncharacteristically quiet.  

“Henryk, will you be alright from here?” Laurence asked.

“Yeah, thank you,” Henryk said, stepping away from them. 

“Find me if you need me,” Laurence called before turning to Ludwig. Laurence’s pale skin was still a touch pink from the heat and Ludwig’s gaze seemed glued to that flush. 

“It’s been a while since you’ve been down there,” Henryk heard the Commander say. 

Henryk forced himself to keep walking, despite his curiosity. Laurence laughed and it was the last thing he was able to hear. Those two were still a mystery to him, but at least they were a pleasant one.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @oodleswrites  
> :)


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cry on twitter @oodleswrites

Once he was back in his room, Henryk immediately bathed. It wasn’t like him to take a cool shower, but after the sauna it felt nice. Craving natural light, he ventured out to the  _ other _ garden Laurence had mentioned. This one was far bigger, located behind the Highest House, with no apparent purpose except to be pretty. Henryk followed along a path of loose gravel and stones meant to guide visitors. There were statues throughout the garden as well, depictions of Yharnam royals gone by, as well as less clear melds of stone and metal. 

Henryk stopped at one that caught his eye. It looked like bits of discarded weapon parts made to look like a horse. There was something appealing about the obvious dangerous edges that had been crafted into the shape of such an elegant creature. 

As he studied the piece, he caught the unmistakable scent of wolf on the air. Not a shifter in human form either, but a wolf on all fours. Henryk was about to search for the source, but all too late, the animal in question came bounding toward him. 

Henryk stumbled back, completely taken off guard, and the wolf knocked into him. Henryk hit the ground, sliding across the gravel as the wolf stood over him. The dying afternoon light made it abundantly clear who it was. 

“Alfred, right?” Henryk asked, staring up at his blue-green eyes. 

The golden wolf growled. He was smaller than Gascoigne, but still large enough to pose a threat. The wolf pressed his nose to Henryk’s chest and breathed loudly.

“I’m sure my scent is confusing to you,” Henryk said as the wolf smelled him, surprised at how brazen he was being. “But let’s make one thing clear. You’re not allowed to touch me.”

The wolf paused and lifted his head.

“Laurence will get mad at you,  _ I’ll _ get pissed, it’ll be a bad time for everyone,” Henryk went on. “You don’t want that, do you?”

The wolf’s ears flattened, but he didn’t back down. In fact, his head tilted to the side as he studied Henryk, tongue lolling out. Henryk narrowed his eyes and shifted his hands to show his claws. This was no self-important teenager. 

“Don’t,” he warned. “I know exactly how long it takes a wolf to heal.”

The wolf began to snarl and Henryk braced himself to slash at the animal’s chest if he had to. He might be able to shift and scale one of the statues to get out of the wolf’s reach, but he wasn’t sure he could outrun a full grown wolf in the small shift. Considering he was already pinned, this could turn into a fight faster than Henryk anticipated. It was hard to figure out what the wolf wanted. Did he not know that Henryk was with Gascoigne?  

Henryk wondered if, after the sauna and a shower, he no longer smelled like Gascoigne at all. 

Alfred’s breath was hot on Henryk’s face, close enough to lick him.

“Bad idea,” Henryk said, holding his claws up between them. “Gascoigne will be furious. You wanna fight him too?”

The wolf stilled. 

“You know I’m with him, right?” Henryk said. “I may not smell like him right now but he’s marked me. You think he’s gonna like your scent on me? Come on, where’s the human in you?”

The wolf was eerily frozen for a moment before he gave another  _ huff _ and went sprinting back into the garden. Relieved, Henryk shifted his hands back and pulled himself off the ground. 

Erik was easy— just a kid who needed to be shown up. Alfred, however, was clearly dealing with something else. Henryk quickly went back into the house, not wanting to be stuck outside in the falling darkness with a wild shifter. 

 

-

 

The first thing Henryk did was return to his room and put on one of Gascoigne’s sweaters. Obviously, carrying the wolf’s scent with him was only going to help. It was a nice sweater, grey and soft, even though it was far too big for Henryk. He secured the extra fabric to the side with a hair tie he found in the closet to prevent it from hanging over his tail.

He was torn between wanting to hide in his room, and also wanting company. He wasn’t sure how messages in this place worked, but he knew Lady Maria kept an office in the Upper Ward. Feeling comforted with Gascoigne’s scent on him, he went out searching. Evening had settled in and the house was lit from within like a massive hearth, the night sky visible through ample windows all around him. The place was almost comfortable, until he remembered how many people were inside it.

As far as Henryk could tell, there were two main sections to the Highest House: the residential area where he lived, and the offices where Ludwig worked. That’s where he guessed Maria would keep her office, so he headed in that direction, nose to the air. So many animals were milling around him, it was hard to keep it sorted, but he could just barely make out the edges of a familiar scent. 

Ludwig’s office was in the very back of the house, but there were a few other offices before his that seemed promising. Henryk wound up hovering outside of a closed door that carried the scent of bird. He waited to see if anyone would come or go, but after nothing happened for a minute, he knocked on the door. 

He could hear people on the other side and stepped back, wondering if he was intruding on some important business. This was Maria, after all. She was probably always doing something important. 

But it was relief to see Caryll with their neatly pinned back hair and their familiar smile. “Henryk. You’re alive. And how!” Their gaze zeroed in on his ears.

“Let him in,” he heard a voice from inside. 

Caryll reached for him. “Come in, come in!”

Henryk gladly allowed them to sweep him into the office and shut the door again. Lady Maria was sitting on top of a desk facing the room, one leg propped up on the other. She was holding a piece of paper out for another girl to see. Henryk was shocked to recognize Yurie, of all people, the scholar he’d spoken to in Old Yharnam. The young woman was studying the paper in Maria’s grip, her hands clasped behind her back.

“The lettering looks Pthumerian, but this type of ink isn’t common to that area. The coloring is off.”

Maria nodded, handing the letter to Yurie. “Very good.”

Yurie carefully took the paper with a gloved hand before she glanced up to see Henryk and Caryll. “Oh.  _ Oh _ .” Her brown eyes went wide. “That… wasn’t just a story about the feline shifter, then?”  

“Uh,” Henryk felt warmth in his face. “As it turns out, no.”

“Well,” she said, seeming to remember her task and turning to put the piece of paper inside an envelope. 

“Does Eileen know about this development?” Caryll asked, pointing at their own head. 

Henryk folded his arms, his ears twitching. “Not yet. That’s part of why I came here, actually. I was hoping maybe you could help me get her a message. I just want her to know everything’s alright. That and to ask if any of you are aware of any developments with the imposter that was apprehended. I’m sort of being quarantined here for the time being.”

“How are the wolves handling it?” Caryll asked brightly, as if they already knew the answer.

Henryk shrugged. “I had to put Erik in a headlock this morning and I think Alfred just tried to lick me in the gardens, so, you know. Could be worse, could be better.”

Caryll burst out laughing. “Oh, that Erik wants to be a handful so badly, doesn’t he?”

Maria didn’t smile, though her eyes held a light. “He only recently discovered his shift, as far as we can tell, but he was born in Yharnam and is all too aware of what a wolf’s status can get him. Luckily, he’s also a teenage boy who idolizes people like Ludwig and yourself. Fighters.”

“We’re fairly confident that once Djura gets to him, he’ll mellow out,” Caryll said to Henryk. “But Alfred? Oh, he’s a tricky one.”

“There’s some kind of dissonance between him and his wolf,” Maria explained. “Nobody can figure it out. Chances are, if his wolf came after you, it wasn’t his human intention.”

“ _ But _ ,” Caryll chimed in, finger raised. “His wolf knows as well as Alfred does that trying to get your scent on another wolf’s partner is a big no-no. Gascoigne’ll have to have words with him. Or teeth.” 

Henryk wasn’t sure how to feel about that. “If Alfred didn’t mean it…?”

“But his wolf did,” Caryll said. “They have rules about this, you know? Shifters used to duel for offenses smaller than that. You said he tried to lick you?”

Henryk shrugged. “More like bodily tackled me to the ground and, yeah, maybe.”

Caryll gave a scandalized face, shaking their head. “Oh, that’s a grand offense! God it’s been ages since I’ve seen a duel.” Caryll looked positively tickled.

“You’re joking, right?” Henryk asked. 

Yurie delicately cleared her throat. “I’m sorry to interrupt but would anyone mind filling in the gaps for me? I’m new here and that man has ears and a tail. Is that normal around here?”

Caryll swooped over to her and put their arm around Yurie’s shoulders, talking quickly. “Remember when we told you that the Captain of Yharnam broken his betrothal for a pretty boy? Meet Henryk.” Caryll pointed at Henryk who burned at the succinct description. “Turns out he’s touched by magic from old shifters, you know, the things we’ve been talking about. Anyway, Henryk and Gascoigne have been carrying on an illicit affair for months but now that Laurence has nulled the betrothal, it means Viola is out and Henryk is in, which  _ also _ means that Henryk is off the market for other suitors, so when Alfred’s wolf got up close and personal earlier, he was technically scenting on another wolf’s partner, which gives Gascoigne the right to publicly fight Alfred if he wants to.” 

“Are you serious?” Henryk asked. 

Caryll nodded. “Oh, yes. I hope he does. I think everyone’s been too soft on that wolf. Alfred needs more than a stern talking to.”

Henryk frowned. “I don’t know if fighting is the answer.”

“The fact of the matter is that if Gascoigne  _ doesn’t _ , Alfred’s wolf might go after you again. He needs to answer to someone around here and, truthfully, there are precious few shifters I’d trust to beat Alfred in a fair fight,” Caryll said. They smiled, leaning a hand on their hip. “I’ve been studying the wolf politics for a while now.”

Yurie folded her arms neatly. “What’s wrong with Alfred’s wolf?”

“He doesn’t listen to anyone,” Caryll said. “He acts in complete opposition to Alfred’s human wishes. It’s as if he’s rebelling against the pack. Typically, young wolves fall into line with the mentorship of older or stronger wolves, but Alfred’s wolf doesn’t care about anyone’s status. Alfred himself is a fairly nice boy, which is why everyone hesitates to get aggressive. I mean, he organises the library when he’s bored for heaven’s sake. But he can’t get the wolf to do anything he wants.”

Henryk sighed. “That’s who that was…? The blond kid? God, it’s like night and day between human and shift.”

“Oh, I know it. I’ve seen him get most upset by dogs and other wolves, so it stands to reason that a cat is hitting him especially hard. Sorry, kid.” Caryll gave Henryk a pitying look. “And, forgive me in advance, but I do have to get this out of my system.” Henryk gave Caryll a guarded look as they suddenly clapped both their hands to their own face. “You are adorable! No wonder the damn wolves are after you. Gascoigne’s a lucky man, I’ll tell you.”

Henryk’s back straightened reflexively. “Oh.”

Caryll relaxed, hand back on their hip. “That’s all. I’m good.”

Maria looked mildly amused. “Every day I thank the gods I am not a scent driven creature. That’s why I typically employ birds. Much less clouded in their judgement.”

“But you have to admit he at least looks good for a cuddle,” Caryll said. “The ears, Maria!”

Henryk smirked. “What was that about dueling with the Captain?”

Caryll touched their own chest. “Spare me, please. Gascoigne would tear my feathers out. I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

Maria tapped her finger on her desk. “Yes, and that has gotten you into trouble before, has it not?”

“Lady, please, not in front of the new girl,” Caryll said, putting their hands over Yurie’s head.

Yurie looked mildly alarmed, but also like she was too busy studying everyone to care. Henryk had to laugh. Yes, Caryll was a menace when they wanted to be.  

“To answer one of your questions,” Maria said, fixing Henryk with her gaze. “Nothing new has happened with the imposter. They moved her to isolation and she hasn’t spoken a word since. Her shift continues to deteriorate. I give her another 24 hours at least until she starts to consider the Captain’s offer.”

“You lot really do know everything that goes on, don’t you?” Henryk asked.

“It is my job,” Maria said plainly.

Henryk glanced at Caryll and back to Maria. “How much do you know about the originals?”

Maria quirked a slender eyebrow. “I am a Watcher. One of the few non-wolves that Laurence has divulged  _ some _ of his secrets to. Not to mention my history with Cainhurst interests him. We’ve talked about a certain… shall we call Logarius a  _ relative _ ?”

Henryk nodded. “Yeah, we talked about him too.”

“Laurence asked me a long time ago to try to locate him,” Maria said. “It’s been a project of mine since I started working for the Upper Ward. Does that answer your question?”

Henryk nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

“As for your other question,” Caryll said, sidling back up to him. “I’ll tell Eileen to come pay you a visit tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” Henryk said. “I’ll let the cuddle comment slide.”

Caryll dramatically exhaled. “Thank god. Yurie, why don’t you come along with me back to our offices? I’d say you’re doing quite well.”

Yurie walked up to Henryk and presented her hand. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Henryk accepted the handshake. “Yeah, you too. I’m guessing this means you’re settling into a rather nice job offer?”

She nodded. “Yes, I’ve been in training for a few days.”

“Congratulations,” Henryk said. “Maybe I’ll see you around, then.”

“Thank you,” she said, eyes earnest. 

Caryll opened the door for her and they left the room. Maria set her hands on her knee and regarded Henryk with a neutral expression. She was a lot like Ludwig in her calm and controlled manner, but Henryk was well aware that her talents were a bit more diverse. There was less  _ intimidation _ to her and more  _ consideration _ .

“You are quite the controversy,” she said. “I’m glad I got to meet you the way that I did. Otherwise I might have been a little suspicious of you myself. Those who only know the facts are, I believe, wrongfully concerned.”

Henryk sighed. “Do the other Watchers think I’m up to something?”

She shrugged. “All they really know is that you upset what they thought was a perfect union with a very volatile shifter.”

“Volatile?” Henryk echoed.

“He has a storied past with his own wolf, but also his position here,” Maria clarified. “Gascoigne has a lot of influence with regard to policy, and most of the population of Yharnam likes him, both shifters and nons. The Watchers have been forced into a careful place with him. Between you and me, I don’t think Gascoigne is even aware of his own level of influence in this city. Would be quite an upset if he used it to his advantage.”

Henryk felt his brows knit together as he stared back at her. “What do you gain from his rebelling against the Watchers?”

Maria shook her head. “Nothing. My position is secure because of what I can offer Laurence and Ludwig directly. And I’ve proven myself trustworthy. I only think that it would be a welcome change to see more integration in the city.”

“Shifters and nons?” Henryk ventured. 

“Among other things,” Maria said, gaze as cool as ever. 

Henryk tried not to look too surprised. He wasn’t entirely sure what she meant, but he had one guess. “Right. Any other helpful information you feel like passing along?”

“Not in regards to your own status,” she said. “But I’ll be sure to pass anything on, if it occurs to me.”

“What about the originals?” Henryk asked. “Anything else about them?”

“I imagine Laurence is being forthcoming enough with you,” she said, rising from her desk to stand. “He is exactly as he seems to be. Laurence doesn’t hide so much as  _ omit _ things accidentally. I have found him to be a reasonable boss over the years. It’s the other Watchers who will fight you much more than him. The older ones are rather married to their traditions, but playing their game is easier because of it.”

“Thanks,” Henryk said. 

She nodded and took a seat at her desk. “My pleasure.”

Henryk left her office, softly closing the door behind him, feeling comforted by Maria’s candid nature. Surely if she was on his side, that would make his life here much easier. He headed back to his room to find a basket outside the door with more clothing and another  _ L _ signed note on top. Henryk brought it inside and sifted through to see what more had been given to him. He was removing everything when he heard his door creak open. 

“There you are.”

Henryk turned toward the familiar voice, his whole body reacting to the sight of Gascoigne entering the room and shutting the door behind him. He felt it like shedding unnecessary layers of clothing. 

The shifter’s face lit up as he walked over. “God.”

“What?” Henryk asked.

Before Henryk could prepare, Gascoigne grabbed him around the middle and picked him up off the ground. “Your ears moved when you saw me.”

“Oh god,” Henryk buried his face in Gascoigne’s hair, embarrassed. 

“It was cute,” Gascoigne assured him quietly, until his body went stiff. He made a noise and sniffed at Henryk’s chest. 

Henryk sighed. “Can you tell?”

“Damnit,” Gascoigne set Henryk down again. “I leave you for a  _ day _ . Where the hell is Alfred?”

“Not sure,” Henryk said. “Maybe we can just talk to him?”

Gascoigne growled. “Alfred’s not the issue. His goddamn wolf won’t listen.”

Henryk frowned. “Sorry.”

Gascoigne’s brows jumped up. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” 

“I think I lost your scent after Laurence made me sit in a sauna. Maybe if I’d had something of yours on me, Alfred wouldn’t have bothered me,” Henryk said.

Gascoigne took Henryk’s shoulders. “You’re not the issue. It shouldn’t have happened regardless of your scent. That wolf has no sense of pack loyalty. We’ve been walking on eggshells around him, but it’s not working. This is just the last straw, honestly.”

“What are you going to do?” Henryk asked.

Gascoigne exhaled, some of his anger diffusing. “I need him to respect me. If he can’t do that on my word alone, he needs to know that I’m stronger. I hate to admit it, but his wolf is actually pretty ferocious, so no one else has wanted to fight him.” 

“You gonna be okay?” Henryk asked. 

“Of course,” Gascoigne said with a smile. “I’ve fought monsters bigger than him.”

Henryk nodded. “Okay. So how does it work? Do you go and slap him with a glove or something?”

“You’ve been reading too many books,” Gascoigne said, tugging Henryk in closer. “I’ll deal with it tomorrow. You and I are going to have a nice evening. You’re not allowed to stress, remember?”

Henryk smiled. “Right.”

“So, put it out of your mind. Let’s get your things and get you out of here,” Gascoigne said, hands on Henryk’s waist, pressing his mouth to Henryk’s forehead. “Let us take care of you.”

Henryk slid his arms around Gascoigne’s neck, sighing through the rush of heat at the mention of Gascoigne  _ and _ his wolf. “Yes, please.”

 

-

 

They spent the ride to Gascoigne’s glued to each other. Gascoigne murmured something about getting rid of Alfred’s scent and kept his face pressed to Henryk’s neck, hand sliding up under Henryk’s shirt, resting right where Alfred’s snout had been. Not that they needed an excuse, but Henryk didn’t mind in the slightest. A day of physical silence had him ready to break.

Gascoigne carried Henryk into the house, neither of them caring about subtlety anymore. They didn’t let go of each other until they were in the bedroom. Henryk was in a haze by then, that heat building up all along his skin, needing release. Gascoigne had Henryk sitting on the edge of the bed, undressing him in pieces and biting at every new swath of skin he uncovered. Maybe it was jealousy over another wolf getting too close, maybe they were just feeding into each other’s tension after missing an evening together; Henryk didn’t particularly care to pick apart their ferver. He cared about skin, Gascoigne’s and his as close as possible. 

Hands buried in Gascoigne’s hair, he felt the shifter drag his mouth across Henryk’s abdomen. Gascoigne grabbed the waist of Henryk’s pants, wrenching them down just to nip at his thigh. The wolf gave an appreciative breath. 

“You’re warm,” Gascoigne said. “And your scent is rich like last time.”

Henryk tried to respond coherently as Gascoigne finally removed the rest of Henryk’s clothes, his hands sliding up Henryk’s legs.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about you,” Henryk said.

Gascoigne smiled, tossing his own shirt aside. “Does that mean what it meant before? How many times can I get you off tonight?”

Henryk was already breathing hard, but the feel of Gascoigne’s hand wrapping around his cock scattered his thoughts. “Guess you’ll find o—oh fuck.”

  
  


Henryk was leaning on his elbows, tail slowly curling in response to Gascoigne’s steady grip. He started to pull Gascoigne in closer with his legs, just wanting more connection and more of his heavenly scent. It  _ was _ better when they were together and giving in to whatever desire they had. It was stronger of course, but it was also a little sweeter. Maybe that was what constantly drove Henryk to licking Gascoigne. His scent demanded it. 

Gascoigne showed no signs of stopping, curling a hand around the back of Henryk’s head and bringing them closer. 

“Don’t fight it,” Gascoigne said. 

Henryk let himself relax into the burn, back arched, eyes closed, panting. He could feel that this wouldn’t be the end— not tonight. The mattress dipped and Henryk barely opened his eyes just as Gascoigne met him in a kiss. Henryk threw one of his arms around Gascoigne’s neck to keep him there. It was a hardly even a kiss as Henryk kept stuttering for air and mumbling curse words as his body climbed toward release. Feeling Gascoigne’s fingers slide up over his ears is what set Henryk over the edge. He came with a small gasp before reeling Gascoigne back for another kiss.

Because there was no time to waste. Because he wanted even more. Henryk pulled Gascoigne onto the bed, turning over to show his tail. The shifter took it in hand, and Henryk sighed his relief. That simple touch never failed to light up his whole body. And, it seemed, never failed to destroy Gascoigne’s patience. With a growl, Gascoigne started working Henryk open, and Henryk nearly whited out between the feel of the shifter’s slicked fingers inside him and the continued stroking of his tail. He was murmuring into the bed, not really caring what he was saying, just needing to give that positive feedback. 

Gascoigne pressed in close and whispered, “you’re purring.” 

Only with Gascoigne. No one else could ever tell him that and make it okay— better than okay. Henryk wasn’t even aware of it, but he didn’t try to stop. Not as Gascoigne kissed Henryk’s neck and pushed his legs apart and told him how badly he wanted to feel Henryk. And Henryk told him with a strained voice that he was ready for him. They melted together and Henryk felt the fever break. 

The way Gascoigne moved was almost like he was fighting off a shift, but that couldn’t be right. They were already in deep, and Henryk didn’t want to stop, but something was off. He reached behind him for Gascoigne’s hair, pulling his face close. 

“Hey,” he breathed. “What’s going on?”

Gascoigne was panting. “W-we…” He sighed against Henryk’s neck. “We want to h-have you like we did before.”

Henryk felt Gascoigne nipping at his neck, trying not to give in completely, but he was practically whining with the effort of it. Still hard, still buried in Henryk, but doing everything he could to wait for permission. 

“Yes,” Henryk told him, fisting the sheets in anticipation. “God, yes,  _ please _ .”

With a growl, Gascoigne shifted into that half-form. Henryk was watching with rapt attention until felt it inside and he pressed his face to the bed. With this great sigh of relief, Gascoigne picked back up and Henryk forgot all over again how to care about anything else. There was nothing quite so sweet as being able to feel them both, satisfy them both. Henryk made sure to give them as much of himself as they offered to him. 

This form may not have been as smooth about anything, but it was still such a high to feel that animal impulse given shape. Henryk’s whole body was trembling with it, the absolute fullness and the way Gascoigne hit the most delicate places. It was almost too much. 

Feeling the mess the two of them had become, Henryk went weak. Yes, it was just as maddeningly good as he remembered, only this time there was no full moon delirium to steal their time when it was over. Completely drained, Henryk lay on the sheets and glanced behind him at Gascoigne. He was still in that half-form, looking down at Henryk, head tilted to the side. Henryk had no clue how human he was like this. 

“Gasc,” he said quietly. 

Blue eyes met his and the creature leaned down to press his face to Henryk’s back. He gave a soft groan before he licked Henryk’s skin, which made Henryk laugh. He turned over to see Gascoigne better and immediately the creature rubbed his face against Henryk’s chest. 

Henryk started scratching around Gascoigne’s ears which earned him a low growl of appreciation, the shifter’s ears flattening in response. 

“Good to know you’ll always like that,” Henryk said. 

The half-wolf picked himself up to look at Henryk again. Delicately, he raised a clawed hand and set it on Henryk’s head, mirroring his scratching, far more gentle. Henryk turned his head into it, letting Gascoigne pet his ears in return. It seemed the half-wolf was scared of hurting Henryk, unsure of his own strength yet, but Henryk didn’t mind. He laid on his side, facing Gascoigne, unfurling his tail across the bed.  

“Don’t feel like you have to stay like that,” Henryk said. “If it’s too much. Don’t hurt yourself.”

Gascoigne laid down with Henryk’s head tucked under his own, so lightly scratching down Henryk’s back and over his tail.

Henryk heard a soft breath that sounded like, “ours…”

He put his hand over Gascoigne’s heart and answered him, “yeah. I’m yours.”

A rumbling sigh came in response as the shifter played with Henryk’s tail, threading it through clawed fingers. Henryk pressed his face to Gascoigne’s chest, the softness of the shifter’s fur bringing a smile to his lips. 

“Are you good like this?” Henryk asked. “It’s not hard on you?”

Gascoigne pulled him in even closer, managing a rough, “we like it… with you.”

“Good,” Henryk said, running his hand down Gascoigne’s side and over to his white tail. The shifter tightened his grip around Henryk, giving this low a pleased noise as Henryk scratched into him. He kept it up for a minute until his arms grew tired and he yawned into Gascoigne’s chest.

“Sleep,” the shifter muttered to him. 

Henryk nodded, settling back down. Gascoigne held him close, delicately petting him as if he were in the form of the small cat, but it was just as soothing. His mind went blank with such a lovely touch. In his dreams, he found himself in the midst of a thunderstorm but it didn’t frighten him. One of his hands was buried in white fur. He could handle it.

He woke with human arms draped over him. Gascoigne’s breathing was heavy with sleep. Henryk pressed his cheek and ear to Gascoigne’s chest, listening, but feeling as well. He tried to wake up that thread between them, to see if he could get a read on Gascoigne and the wolf. There was no immediate response, but after a few seconds he could feel that jump within the shifter’s chest.  _ Hello. _ Henryk smiled. They were okay.

Not wanting to interrupt Gascoigne’s rest, Henryk laid back again and just enjoyed the feeling of such a normal thing. To wake up in bed beside someone he loved. To know they were safe. As if the shifter knew, though, Gascoigne woke up shortly after. 

“Hope I didn’t keep you waiting long,” he said, curling around Henryk to softly bite at his ear.

Henryk laughed, the sensation sending goosebumps down his body. “Not at all. Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah,” Gascoigne said, hand smoothing down Henryk’s tail. “It’s getting easier.”

Henryk stretched into Gascoigne’s touch, his tail curling. “Good.”

“Yeah it was,” Gascoigne breathed, fingers sliding down the back of his tail toward his body. He bit at Henryk’s ear again. “You’re goddamn insatiable.”

Henryk hid his face in the sheets, unable to deny that fact. Even then, he was sort of hoping Gascoigne might try something as the shifter drew his finger tantalizingly lightly across Henryk’s backside down to his thigh.

“Blame it on withdrawal from ten years of aconite,” Henryk said. 

“I was hoping you were going to blame it on me,” Gascoigne said, smirking.

“That too,” Henryk said, eyeing him. “Mostly that, if we’re being honest.”

“Have I made a monster out of you?” Gascoigne asked, drawing Henryk against him. He set a hand on Henryk’s neck. “Your pulse is racing.”

“All your fault,” Henryk said. “If you weren’t so damn jealous, maybe you wouldn’t feel the need to make it so good every time.”

“Ah, sorry love,” Gascoigne said, catching him in a quick kiss. “I can’t risk leaving you unsatisfied. What if some other wolf catches your eye? Or your nose?”

“Can’t have that,” Henryk teased. “You have to make sure I’m not thinking about anyone else.”

“You understand my struggle,” Gascoigne said, laughing low. “I have to make my point while I have the opportunity.”

“Of course,” Henryk said, fighting off a smile. “In fact, you should take every chance you get.”

“You’re so right,” Gascoigne said, nuzzling in closer. “Will you spare a moment for a desperate wolf?”

“I think I have just enough ti—” Henryk couldn’t finish his sentence before had him in another kiss. 

 

-

 

By the time they were leaving Gascoigne’s house, it was late morning. 

“Henriett’s gonna be pissed,” Gascoigne said with a smirk as he locked his door. 

“Try to at least look a little sorry,” Henryk said, patting his cheek.

Gascoigne shook his head. “That’s a waste of a good mood. You’re going to come with me and apologize on my behalf.  _ You’re _ the reason I’m late and you have a much more convincing pout.”

“Is that so?” Henryk asked with a smile. 

“She knows as well as you do how powerless I am to you,” Gascoigne said. “Besides, she hasn’t seen you in a minute and keeps asking. She’ll see you and forget all about me being late.”

Henryk looked up at him as they headed down the street. “No one’s going to… be weird about me? Or  _ us _ ?”

Gascoigne slid an arm around Henryk’s shoulders. “I’ll show them my teeth if they are.”

Gascoigne’s presence did ease the tension in Henryk’s body as they headed toward his office. Being on the arm of the Captain certainly had its advantages. With his wraps on, everyone gave them a wide berth. If they were staring, they were at least hiding it from Henryk’s line of sight. Gascoigne talked to him the whole way there, which also helped distract him. 

When they were right outside Oedon Chapel, Henriett came down the steps, arms folded. “Look who decided to show. With a poor sap in tow, no doubt to apologize on his behalf.”

Gascoigne burst out laughing. “My cat was sick. I had to take care of him. Right, Henryk? This is the part where you cough loudly.”

Henryk rolled his eyes and turned to Henriett. “It’s good to see you.”

Her gaze swept over him. “No wonder he’s been late. And particularly lovesick.”

“I’m just as fearsome as I’ve always been,” Gascoigne insisted. 

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, waving him off. “Do all cats look like that?” 

Henryk shrugged. “I’ve never met another feline shifter.”

“Neither have I,” she said. “I always imagined cats would stay away from a city like Yharnam.”

“The sensible ones probably do,” Henryk said. 

Henriett finally smiled. “I’m glad you’re alright. You should both come inside. You have a visitor.”

Gascoigne tilted his head and dropped his arm from Henryk’s shoulder. “Who?”

“The Commander,” she said quietly.

“Fuck,” Gascoigne sighed. “How long has he been here?” 

Henriett laughed. “At ease. He only got here a moment ago.”

“If anyone asks, I was… doing something important,” Gascoigne muttered. 

Henriett smirked at Henryk. “Very important, I’m sure.”

The three of them stepped into Oedon Chapel and headed down to Gascoigne’s office. Ludwig and Simon were already waiting for them.

“Captain,” Ludwig said. “And Henryk. Laurence is interested in accompanying you to Byrgenwerth College this evening.”

“Great,” Gascoigne said. “How many men are you sending with us?”

Ludwig glanced at Simon and back at Henryk and Gascoigne. “We believe, for this particular endeavour, a smaller group of trusted hunters will serve us better. You may take one of your own and in addition, you will have Simon, Brador and myself for protection.”

“Sir?” Gascoigne’s chin lifted in surprise. “Are you sure.”

“Quite,” Ludwig said simply. “Where Laurence goes, I go. We’ll watch each other in a chain and it should be alright.”

“Can I make one suggestion?” Henryk said. “Maybe get one of Maria’s birds in the air. Someone who can sound a subtle alarm if we need it.”

Ludwig nodded. “Very well. As I understand it Gascoigne, you and Valtr have been splitting men for patrols around the grounds since your last trip. Nothing has come up since you started, correct?”

“Yeah,” Gascoigne said. “All’s quiet. I told them not to be subtle about it either. I don’t want Micolash thinking for even a second that we’re not watching.”

“Very well,” Ludwig said. “Laurence doesn’t anticipate trouble. In fact, he is rather optimistic about this trip. Henryk, he’ll tell you more when you arrive today. I am headed back there myself, would you care to accompany me, or do you have more errands to run?”

“I’m ready, sir, thank you,” Henryk said. 

Gascoigne put his hand back on Henryk’s shoulder. “Actually, I have to take care of something at the Upper Ward myself. Mind if I tag along?”

“Of course not,” Ludwig said. 

Henriett folded her arms, staring at Gascoigne. “Leaving me in charge again for you?” 

“I won’t be long,” he responded with a smile. “Promise.”

“Out with you then,” she said, a light in her eyes. “I’ve gotten quite used to giving orders.”

“Excellent,” Gascoigne said, heading for the door. “Try it out on Gratia. She’s been skipping weapons training. Again.”

Henriett laughed. “You’ll have a mutiny before long.”

“Sounds like fun,” Gascoigne said.

As they left the room, Henryk caught a pensive look on Ludwig’s face. The four of them headed back outside to Ludwig’s personal carriage, but not without Gascoigne getting stopped two more times by different people to ask him a question. Henryk saw Wallar’s massive figure across the courtyard and the man waved enthusiastically. Henryk had to laugh as he waved back.

“They won’t stop talking about you,” Gascoigne said as he opened the door for Henryk. “Gratia and Wally— both of them were very impressed with your technique at the college.”

“They’re not mad that I’m a shifter, right?” Henryk asked.

Gascoigne laughed. “Of course not. I told them you were deep undercover.”

Henryk glared at Gascoigne as the man took a seat beside him. “Why would you lie?”

“Would you prefer I explain everything else?” Gascoigne asked. “It was easier this way.”

“Yeah, alright,” Henryk relented. 

Once they were all inside, Ludwig crossed one leg over another and fixed Gascoigne with a stare. “I’m impressed, Captain.”

Gascoigne’s back straightened a degree. “Sir?”

“I don’t often come down here to see you with your own hunters, but they all clearly hold you in very high regard,” Ludwig went on. “It is not how I would run an office, but it appears to be working for you.”

Gascoigne’s lips lifted. “Thank you. Honestly, I try not to think about it.”

“Not everyone can adjust from one life to another,” Ludwig added. “Moving between circles. You’ve done so with relative ease.”

Gascoigne gave this almost-laugh. “It wasn’t easy, sir, but it was worth the work.”

Ludwig turned his gaze to the window. “I have been thinking about the wolves. How we raise them. Maybe there is more room for exploration than we once thought.”

Gascoigne rested his hand on the seat beside Henryk, his fingers just brushing Henryk’s leg, and Henryk was immediately able to feel the man’s pulse. This was a much bigger conversation then either Ludwig or Gascoigne were letting on.

“I think that’s a brilliant idea, sir,” Gascoigne said. “Amelia’s been doing well, right? No secret complaints that she’s too proud to admit to?”

Ludwig’s mouth just  _ barely _ hinted at a smile. “She always returns home in a good mood and is frequently eager to return to school at the end of her breaks. Believe it or not, she has expressed interest in practicing medicine on the frontier for soldiers who might need it. She is smart enough not to come right out and request it, but she has been sowing the seeds for months now.”

Gascoigne laughed. “Sounds like her.”

They were rolling up to the Highest House when Ludwig’s gaze flicked back to Gascoigne. “One more thing. Try not to cause too much damage to Alfred. He does feel guilty about the whole thing.”

“It’s not up to me,” Gascoigne said. “He knows that.”

Ludwig sighed. “Yes, well. Try not to lose your head, then. It wasn’t a genuine challenge to you.”

“Tell his wolf that,” Gascoigne said.

“Do you need an audience?” Ludwig asked, fixing his sleeves as they came to a stop.

“Nah,” Gascoigne said. “We’ll settle this quietly.”

“Very good,” Ludwig said.

Simon opened the door for the Commander and the two of them left with another quick goodbye. Henryk followed Gascoigne out, taking the man’s outstretched hand to get to the ground. He was getting more used to these gestures, thinking that it was probably just to play the part of the wolf around here. 

“You gonna carry my coat too?” Henryk teased quietly.

Gascoigne immediately changed his posture, standing at attention like some kind of butler. “If the gentleman wants. He is an esteemed guest of Laurence himself.”

Henryk wanted to throw it in his face, so he shed his coat and passed it off to him. “You really are going to fight Alfred? This is like a status thing for you wolves?”

“Yes, it is,” Gascoigne said, tossing Henryk’s coat over his arm. “But don’t worry, I’m in a good mood. I won’t mess around. Keep it by the books. All I need is to make him shift back to human and it’ll be over. I don’t think Alfred’s wolf is stupid, just stubborn. He won’t want to hurt himself. It’s not like has anything at stake, either. Like Ludwig said, it wasn’t a real challenge. I just need him to know that I’m not afraid of him. That should make things easier for you.” 

“Alright,” Henryk said. “I’m sure you’ll be good.”

Gascoigne smiled at him. “Thanks to you, I’ve made great progress in learning restraint.”

Henryk laughed outright. “Sure. That’s how I think of you.”

“I said I’m  _ learning _ ,” Gascoigne replied, sliding his free arm around Henryk’s waist, right above his tail. “It’s a process. You have to respect that.”

Henryk was still laughing as they headed toward the front doors. It was a busy day, and there were a lot people buzzing around them, coming in and out of the house, arranging carriages and greeting each other along the lengthy driveway. Henryk was walking with his attention stuck on Gascoigne. The shifter was handsome with that smug smile on his face, walking tall like he wanted everyone to know that he was having a good day. Henryk would have felt a little embarrassed about walking with his tail so out in the open in front of all these people, but Gascoigne looked so damn proud to have Henryk at his side.

Neither of them were paying much attention to their surroundings. Henryk only realized something was off when he saw two people frozen right in front of the doors to the house, staring past Henryk and Gascoigne. 

“Oh!” one of them said. 

Henryk heard someone else yelp behind them and caught the scent of wolf, entirely too late. Something sharp knicked his tail and he nearly jumped out of his skin, whirling around to see the gold wolf right there. Henryk had to yank his tail out of the wolf’s mouth. He was far too shocked to do anything other than stare at the offending animal, his tail held in his hands, and just say, “He bit me…”

The gold wolf was staring at him, pupils dilated, mouth open. Everyone was staring at them, and he could hear whispers rising up from the spectators. 

Gascoigne took a deep breath, but Henryk could  _ feel  _ the man’s heart racing without even touching him. 

“I promised I would be nice about this,” Gascoigne said, anger simmering under his words as he took a step toward the wolf. “So I’ll give you a head start to find somewhere quiet before I shift.”

The wolf made a throaty noise Henryk didn’t understand as Gascoigne took off his own coat, throwing it to the ground. Gascoigne showed his teeth to Alfred.

“ _ Run little wolf _ .” His voice was already torn between human and animal. 

The wolf’s ears perked up and then he took of sprinting like a streak of lightning. 

“Gasc—” Henryk started to say, but the man shifted so fast, he barely got his clothes off in time. His wraps still clung to the wolf’s face as he chased after Alfred with a snarl.

Henryk ran after them, not wanting to shift himself, but worried that he wouldn’t nearly be fast enough to mitigate the damage of an angry Gascoigne. He could smell them easily enough. They’d rounded the Highest House and disappeared into the gardens. The sounds of barking and snapping were clear on the morning air. 

“What’s going on?” Henryk heard someone calling as he headed toward the sounds. It was Erik standing by the back doors with a couple curious people close behind him. 

“Gascoigne and Alfred are fighting,” Henryk said, not stopping his run. 

“Oh sh—” Erik bit back his own curse and came running after Henryk as he slid on the loose gravel that was almost definitely intended to stop people from running just like they were. The snarling was getting louder, though, and the scent of riled up wolf was clear as day. 

Henryk found them in a pretty little clearing deep in the garden. There was a massive statue of a wolf on its hind legs in the center of a grass circle. A couple benches were positioned symmetrically around it, and two small trees. 

Gascoigne had shifted into the half-wolf and had a hand around the gold wolf’s throat, pressing him into the ground. The half-wolf leaned his mouth close to the gold wolf’s ear and spoke, “ _ don’t touch my mate. _ ”

Erik nearly crashed into Henryk, grabbing Henryk’s shoulders just to stop his own momentum, and then gave a yelp of surprise when he saw the half-wolf. 

“What the hell is that?” Erik breathed.

“It’s fine,” Henryk said, throwing out his arm to stop Erik from getting any closer. 

The gold wolf went still, staring up at the half-wolf. Gascoigne growled and the animal’s eyes darted away. He started panting, but Henryk could see he was trying to relax his body. 

“That’s enough, yeah?” Henryk called, stepping forward. 

“Shift,” Gascoigne demanded, still staring at the wolf.

“We don’t need an audience,” Henryk said louder. He could smell and hear people on their way.

The gold wolf gave this pitiful whine before finally shifting back to human. Alfred covered his face with his hands. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice muffled into his palms. 

The half-wolf let him go with a snarl and took two large steps toward Henryk before dropping to all fours and shifting fully into his wolf. He came right up to Henryk and lowered his head, pressing it to Henryk’s chest. 

“Erik, go help Alfred,” Henryk said, putting both hands on Gascoigne’s face. 

Erik blinked and shook his head as if to clear a fog from his mind. Then he went after Alfred, kneeling by the man. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

Alfred took a deep, shaky breath. 

The white wolf huffed and Henryk looked down at him. “What?”

He pushed a little harder against Henryk, rubbing his cheek against him. 

“Do I need to do something?” Henryk asked. “I don’t know how this works.”

“He’s publicly claiming you,” came a whispered reply. 

Henryk started at the sound of Caryll’s voice. The spy came to stand next to Henryk with their hands behind their back as a few other people rushed forward to check on Alfred.

“Nothing you need to do if you’re accepting him,” Caryll said. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to reciprocate a little, though.”

“Oh, uh.” Henryk buried his hands into Gascoigne’s fur, scratching down his neck. The wolf gave an appreciative groan.

“There you go,” Caryll said, almost smiling. “All’s well in the world. And look, I believe someone wants to offer an apology.”

Henryk watched Alfred shuffle over, some kind of robe cinched around him. Erik stood beside him, elbowing the blonde forward. The white wolf gave a low growl as Alfred approached. Henryk was sure to keep his hands on Gascoigne.

“I-I… I’m so sorry,” Alfred said, gaze on the ground. “I really didn’t mean it. It wasn’t me, you know. But… I think you got through to him.” Alfred looked at the white wolf, his own eyes wide. “He’s quiet. I can… think clearly.”

Gascoigne huffed and rested his jaw on Henryk’s shoulder.

“You’re alright,” Henryk said. “I’m not mad.”

Alfred nodded. “Thank you. I’m so sorry. He’s always been so… over eager. It’s not  _ me _ .”

“Maybe things will be easier now,” Henryk said, looping one arm around Gascoigne’s neck and extending his other to Alfred. “You think he’ll listen better?”

Alfred looked in awe as he stared at Henryk’s outstretched hand. 

“Go on,” Erik whispered in his ear. 

“Oh,” the blond startled and then took Henryk’s hand. “Yes, I do think he’ll listen to you. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Henryk said. “I hope Gascoigne didn’t mess you up too much either.”

The white wolf groaned, but Henryk just smoothed his hand down the wolf’s chest. 

Alfred shook his head. “I’m fine, I promise.”

“Good,” Henryk said. “You mind giving us a minute?”

“Of course not,” Alfred managed.

He and Erik sort of dragged each other toward the house. 

“I assume the Captain is unharmed?” Caryll asked.

Henryk patted Gascoigne. “You good?”

The wolf made another noise and Henryk just laughed. “I don’t exactly speak wolf, but I think he’s fine.”

Caryll nodded. “Excellent. Here.” They held out a robe identical to the one Alfred had put on. “If he wants.”

Henryk took the robe from Caryll and held it out for Gascoigne who shifted and quickly tied the robe on, like he was used to this particular motion.

“You sure were ready,” Gascoigne said, eyeing Caryll.

The spy smiled. “I’m here in part to learn wolf politics. I’d be a fool to miss such a rarely glimpsed interaction.”

Gascoigne raised his brows. “We’re not some endangered species, you know?”

“I mean no offense,” Caryll went on. “You know I used to be an archivist, I can’t help but study things. It’s second nature to me.”

“Right,” Gascoigne said before putting a hand on Henryk’s shoulder. “Walk with me? I need clothes.”

Henryk nodded, letting Gascoigne guide him back toward the house. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

Gascoigne held Henryk close to his side. “Yeah. I’m sorry I got so angry.”

“It’s okay,” Henryk told him. “You didn’t hurt anyone.”

“Yeah, but it makes me feel like a brute,” he said as they stepped inside. “I really am a jealous fool. I try not to be, but I am.”

Henryk had to laugh. “You’re not any worse than me. I just haven’t had the displeasure of watching someone else flirt with you in front of me. I never told you, but there was a brief time that I was worried Henriett might have had a thing for you.”

Gascoigne managed a smile, glancing down at Henryk. “Really?”

Henryk nodded. “I know, I know. This was before I knew she liked women.”

“Well, I suddenly don’t feel so bad,” Gascoigne said as they approached Henryk’s room. “I guess misery likes company.”

“Guess so,” Henryk said as he walked past Gascoigne into his bedroom. He shook his head, sighing. 

“What?” Gascoigne asked as he shut the door. He went to Henryk, putting his hands on Henryk’s arms, gentle but firm. 

“I tease you, but… I spent so much time disliking a girl I’d never even met because she had some kind of claim to you,” Henryk admitted, eyes downcast. “I really have no right to joke about jealousy.”

Gascoigne lifted Henryk’s chin up with his finger, forcing Henryk to meet his gaze. His other hand settled on the small of Henryk’s back. 

“I don’t hold it against you,” Gascoigne said. “I’m the asshole that made you keep that secret in the first place. If I’d been more brave from the beginning, I could have saved us a lot of trouble.”

Henryk leaned into him, resting his head against the man’s chest. “There’s no use in playing that game. We both made mistakes, but we’re here now.”

“You’re right,” Gascoigne spoke softly, arms sliding around Henryk. The shifter’s heart was beating quickly. “It’s so strange to think just how much things have changed. I really didn’t have any idea that I’d come home and find something so good.”

Henryk returned the embrace, throat tight. “Trust me, I know what you mean.”

“But, I’d be lying if I didn’t say you absolutely had my attention from the first time I saw you,” Gascoigne said. “Barely a week home and you hit me harder than anything else.”

Henryk laughed into him. “I didn’t mean to make such an impression. I just thought you were another hapless wardog. ‘Course, you had to make a spectacle of yourself when I went to talk to you that time at the Cathedral Ward. Had that image of you, shirtless, burned into my mind for far too long.”

“I’m glad the right person saw,” Gascoigne said. 

“Stop flirting with me, you have work,” Henryk said, squeezing Gascoigne tighter.

“All I want is to make sure you think about me when I’m away,” Gascoigne said.

Henryk took a deep breath of him before lifting his face. “Fine.”

Gascoigne kissed him far too slowly. “You’ll think about me?”

“Yes.”

Another, much too lovely kiss. “Each minute?”

“Not a moment without you,” Henryk assured him. “But if you keep at this, I won’t let you leave.”

“I think I might like you making good on that threat some day,” Gascoigne said, hand curling over the back of Henryk’s head. “But I’ll get dressed for now.

“Just one more,” Henryk asked, standing on his toes.

Gascoigne grinned before obliging, sweeping Henryk up in an overly dramatic kiss before setting him back down and disappearing into the closet for work clothes. Henryk perched on the desk in view of the closet, watching as Gascoigne picked through everything and floated potential people to come with them tonight. The question seemed to come down to  _ Henriett is the most reliable, so I want her with me, but I also want her at the office to watch over things while I’m gone. _ They came to the conclusion that Gratia would assist at Byrgenwerth with them, and Henriett would be on standby in Gascoigne’s stead at the office. 

“You don’t think anything too wild will happen, right?” Gascoigne asked as he prepared to leave.

Henryk shrugged. “Everything has been more wild than I anticipate, so let’s not play it safe now.”

Gascoigne nodded and gave him a much softer kiss. “I’ll always protect you, okay?”

Henryk nodded, fighting off a smile. “We’ll keep each other safe.”

“Always,” Gascoigne said. “Will you walk me out?”

Henryk eyed him. “How much posturing is involved in this?”

“What do you mean?” Gascoigne frowned. 

“I mean with all the… chair pulling and door holding. Is it because other wolves are watching? Or is it because you’re in the Highest House?” Henryk asked.

Gascoigne gave him a funny smile. “Henryk…I just like you.”

“Wh… what?” Henryk blinked. 

Gascoigne burst out laughing, planting his hand on Henryk’s shoulder. “Oh, fuck me, you’re adorable.”

“What?” Henryk insisted, staring at him.

Gascoigne composed himself with a deep breath. “I have to get to work, but don’t worry about it. I’ll stop if you want me to stop.”

“I didn’t…” Henryk lost his words in a sigh. 

Gascoigne smiled, kissed Henryk’s forehead and let him go. “I’ll see you later for the trip out to Byrgenwerth, okay?”

Henryk just nodded. 

He stepped out of Henryk’s room, closing the door softly behind him, and Henryk deflated, sinking onto the couch. Was he just an idiot? Surely  _ some _ of it had been for show. Annoyed at himself, he grabbed the book he’d taken from Laurence’s library days ago and tried to read to distract himself. His room felt a bit too cold, though, and he didn’t want to get back into bed so he took the book and found his way back to the lumenflower garden, all the way trying to figure out if he’d been truly stupid about this. Gascoigne may be dedicate to his role among the wolves, but he  _ was _ taught by Laurence and Ludwig. It shouldn’t surprise Henryk to think he’d internalized some of those good manners. 

The garden was a welcome change. It was like a greenhouse the way the air held onto warmth. A perfect, comfortable temperature. He sank onto the stone steps that led to the soil and started reading, doing his best to shut out his own anxious thoughts. 

One cold case later, Henryk set his book down and glanced toward the entrance to the garden. 

“I can smell you two,” he called. “It’s okay, I’m at a stopping point.”

Alfred inched out into view but Erik came bounding right up to him. “Sorry, we didn’t want to interrupt anything.”

Henryk walked up to the walkway where he stood. Erik was bright eyed, and even though Alfred still looked sheepish, he, too, seemed excited. 

“Can I help you guys?” Henryk asked, hands on hips. 

They looked at each other. 

“We just— we were wondering…” Alfred started.

“How did Gascoigne do that shift?” Erik blurted out. “Can all wolves do that?”

Henryk folded his arms. “You know, he might be better to ask than me.”

“Yeah, but he’s got all that important work,” Erik said.

“And you’re… you’re his  _ mate _ ,” Alfred said the word quietly. 

“And?” Henryk prompted, worried what they might be implying.

“That means you’re the only one he answers to,” Erik said. “I had it backwards, but after you did that thing in the dining hall, I got it. Gascoigne might be scarier, but you’re the one he listens to. That’s strong.”

Henryk felt his ears twitch. “And you think that means I know all about his shift.”

Erik and Alfred both nodded.

Henryk smiled at them. “Let’s say I know every little secret there is to know about Gascoigne and his wolf. You think I’m just going to spill that info to anyone who asks?”

Their shoulders sank a touch.

“I’m his mate for a reason,” Henryk went on. “I  _ keep _ his secrets. They’re not for sale.” The boys exchanged forlorn looks, and Henryk laughed. “Listen. It’s not some conspiracy. I don’t think wolves normally do that on their own.”

“It  _ is _ you,” Erik said. “You changed him.”

“In a way, I guess,” Henryk admitted. 

Alfred sighed. “Wish I had a mate. Maybe my wolf would listen to me a little better with someone else around.”

“Isn’t that the dream?” Erik said, mussing up his own hair. “Djura’s all  _ it’ll happen when it happens _ .”

Alfred nodded at him. “My Watcher says I shouldn’t get my hopes up until my wolf learns to listen to me.”

Henryk raised his brows. “You guys should ask your Watchers to go out and meet people.”

“They never want us to go anywhere, especially not in the winter,” Erik said. “It’s annoying. Makes the days long, boring  _ and _ cold.”

“How much of a hold do they have on you?” Henryk asked.

The boys shrugged. Erik answered, “we have to ask them about pretty much everything.”

“What happens when you break the rules?” Henryk pressed, arms crossed. 

“Less time in the city, usually,” Alfred said, voice quiet. “We have regular outings. Sometimes they let me go to bookshops.”

Henryk nodded. “Good to know. Do people from the city ever come up here?”

“Oh, yes,” Alfred said. “We have the big seasonal events. The Watchers arrange it with certain families and the like. To introduce us to people.”

“Nine times out of ten, that’s how they make their matches for us,” Erik said. “Or they’ll announce betrothals, babies, that kind of stuff.”

“Come to think of it, I imagine this winter is when they’ll make you and Gascoigne official, right?” Alfred asked, looking hopeful. 

Henryk stared between the two of them. “Do we need to?”

Erik gave a snort. “Duh. How else is the rest of the city going to know about you?”

“I… didn’t think they needed to,” Henryk admitted. 

Erik and Alfred looked at each other, and it seemed that they were both realizing how little Henryk knew of this. 

“I figured he was on track to be a Watcher at the least,” Erik said. 

Alfred nodded at him. “Something big. Big enough to warrant a public union.”

Henryk sighed. He continually forgot that Gascoigne was meant to do much more important work than just hunting for the city and being Henryk’s partner. Maybe Gasc wasn’t magically bonded to Laurence anymore, but the wolf still loved his family. He wanted to help the other wolves. Henryk couldn’t really believe Gascoigne was going to leave that behind.

“Right…” 

“What’s wrong?” Alfred asked, frowned. His eyes, which Henryk could see now were hazel, held concern for him. “Aren’t you excited to join with him?”

“Of course!” Henryk blurted out. “I’m just… not used to his status, that’s all. I never imagined myself getting involved with someone so, uh, well regarded.”

“Ah, it’s not a big deal,” Erik said, waving his hand. “We can help, if you want. You know, tell you all the rules, that kind of stuff.”

“It’s true, I was at Olek’s union a few years ago. It was quite nice. Though, I wonder how they’ll change it for… two male shifters…” His eyebrows furrowed as he stared off, thinking about it. 

“It’s less about being a girl and more about not being a wolf,” Erik said. “He’s still marrying into the Ward, you know?”

Alfred nodded. “You’re right, yes. That does make it simpler.”

“So what’s going to happen at this winter thing?” Henryk asked. “And when is it?”

“In about a week,” Alfred said. “I’m surprised Laurence hasn’t mentioned it.”

“We have a lot going on,” Henryk told him. 

“Speak of the devil,” Erik said, turning to the entrance to the gardens. His shoulders rose a little as Laurence came walking into view. 

The man smiled at them. “Boys! I’m glad to see everyone all in one piece. Alfred, are you alright?”

Laurence walked up to the much taller man who seemed to shrink in on himself as Laurence inspected him.

“Yes, sir, I’m alright,” Alfred spoke quietly, though it was less shame than Henryk expected and more the embarrassment of a child in front of his parents.  

Laurence smiled and put both his hands on Alfred’s face, and despite their several inch height difference, Alfred looked very much the smaller person. “You and I need to spend more time together. Forgive me for my negligence.” 

Laurence let him go and Alfred was a little red in the face, holding his arm. “It’s alright, I understand you have important things to do.”

“None should be more important than guiding my own wolves,” Laurence said, hands clasped. “I fear I’ve let you down. Would you like to join me a moment in the library?”

“Of course, sir,” Alfred said. Even through any embarrassment, it seemed Alfred was happy to see Laurence. 

“And Erik, my boy,” Laurence said. “Djura would like a word.”

If Erik had been in shift, his ears would have flattened from the obvious anxiety that shot through him, but Laurence shook his head.

“Chin up! It’s nothing bad, I promise.” Laurence assured him. “Go on, now. He’s at his home.”

“Yessir,” Erik said, shoulders relaxing.

“Four legs might be faster,” Laurence said quietly. 

Erik grinned as he jogged toward the hall, and Henryk could feel him inching toward a shift.

“And you, my friend, have a visitor,” Laurence said, glancing at Henryk. “She’s waiting for you in Maria’s office.”

Henryk felt himself unwind at the thought of getting to speak to Eileen. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Off you go,” Laurence said. “And remember, no stress allowed!”

“I’ll do my best,” he said. 

As he headed back inside, he heard Laurence  _ tut _ and tell Alfred that his hair was getting much too long. Alfred protested with a  _ but Gascoigne’s is to his shoulders! _ Laurence laughed.  _ And he is no longer living under Ludwig’s roof, now is he? _

Alfred groaned, but Henryk could hear the happiness in his voice. 

 

-

 

Henryk braced himself as he approached Maria’s office again. Eileen was going to freak out. Caryll might have told her, or they might have decided to totally blind side her. As he walked down the hall to the door, he could catch his friend’s scent on the air and the comfort of seeing her again began to alleviate the anxiety. Yeah, things were different, but Eileen was still his friend.

He knocked on the door and heard her voice come through the other side, “Is that you?”

“Yes ma’am,” he called.

The door flung open and Eileen pointed her finger at Henryk. “Don’t you  _ ma’am _ me. Oh, look at you!”

Henryk was going to say something but she pulled him into a quick hug. “It’s so good to see you, love.” Faster than she normally might, she let him go. “I have to be careful with all these wolves around. Don’t want anyone to think I’m up to something with the Captain’s man.”

Henryk groaned. “It’s fine. He knows you and I are friends.”

She smiled at him and hooked their arms together. “Come on, I’ve been given a lunch break, let’s go sit somewhere. Caryll’s been stingy with the details.” She led him away from the office. “Where does a tired girl get tea around here?”

Henryk smiled at her. “No clue. This place is a gilded maze.”

“Let’s just go to the dining hall, then.” She held him close to her. “Don’t think I’m going to gloss over your new look, either, but we’ll get there eventually. Tell me about what happened after I left you here? Obviously I still have a job so that’s all well and good, but they’re not keeping you under lock and key, right?”

Henryk shook his head. “No, it seems to be okay. I’m not sure how much I’m supposed to say, but it’s you, so I don’t particularly care.”

She gave a laugh. “That’s my boy. The Captain and you are doing alright, though?”

Henryk pulled once on her bun. “Yes, we’re fine. It’s his fault I look like this.”

Her eyes went wide. She spoke quietly, “my, my, is that what happens to a cat who gets a good workout?”

“That sounds like something Brador would say,” Henryk replied. “Have you two been hanging out?”

She laughed. “He does come around my house, actually. I think he misses you. He might be a cheeky little man, but I kind of like him for it. And he’s just as hopeless as you when it comes to love so I’m already immune to his complaining.”

“Is he saying anything more about Simon?” Henryk whispered.

“Oh yes,” she said, patting Henryk’s arm. “Going around in circles, they are.”

They laughed together as they entered the dining hall and found a table away from everyone else. It was much more empty than it had been the last time Henryk was here so it was easy to speak without fear of someone overhearing them. The large table at the front of the room held tea and a few small portions of food. They took enough black tea for the both of them and got to talking. Henryk did his best to answer her questions.

As it turned out, Maria had begun  _ very _ quietly educating some of her spies about the originals. Eileen, Caryll, Adeline and now Yurie, were somewhat aware of Laurence and his power. It made the conversation much faster. 

“Part of Maria’s  _ and _ my job has been scouting out the potential locations of other beings like Laurence,” Eileen admitted. “I’d never known what exactly I was looking for, until Maria started to put the pieces together for me recently.”

“Is that why you’re always going on such faraway trips?” Henryk asked.

Eileen nodded. “Yes, but it’s very difficult for a normal shifter like me to detect anything strange. You may have noticed yourself, but Laurence doesn’t have a scent. None of them do. It’s damn near impossible for me to track these people down, but we’ve been finding ways.”

“How do you do it?” Henryk asked. 

“I follow the concentration of shifts,” she said. “The reason there are so many wolves around here is because of Laurence. The longer an original stays in one place, the more their shift begins to influence the populations nearby. Before Laurence showed up, there was a history of winged shifters in the city.”

“Because of Oedon?” Henryk filled in.

She nodded. “And that’s probably why Cainhurst has a higher population of deer. The one that’s supposedly out there, Logarius, he apparently favors stags and the like.”

“Where are there more cats?” Henryk asked her.

She smiled. “Down at the southern border of the frontier. That’s where I saw one last anyway, but it was an older shifter. I get the impression that there’s been a bit of a gap in the influence there. As if the original who might have feline shifts just vanished for a while.”

Henryk nodded. “I think she did. It also sounds like she avoided humans in general. Probably settled somewhere her power wouldn’t effect too many people.” 

“But now  _ you’re _ here,” Eileen said. “I wonder why. Are you the child of the previous original?”

“Maybe?” Henryk said. “I’m working on figuring it out…You’ll never guess what Laurence has me doing.”

“Something that I suggested to you years ago that you didn’t believe in?” Eileen ventured. 

“Meditation,” Henryk said with a sigh.

Eileen offered a smile. “If I can help at all, let me know.” 

“If I’m not mistaken,” Henryk said. “Gascoigne owes you dinner. Tell me where you want to go and I’ll make it happen. Having you around is help enough.”

She chuckled. “Shall we bring the buck along as well? He is useless on his own.”

Henryk nodded. “Yeah, sure, why not? Brador certainly can’t say no to free food.”

Eileen reached over and patted Henryk’s cheek. “Are you okay, love?”

He gave her a half smile. “Honestly I’ve never been more out of my league in my life, but, yeah, I’m okay.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I’ve definitely seen too much of Brador. All I want to do is make some kind of bad joke about the Confederates and your old League Master.”

Henryk glared at her. “I loved you once.”

She grabbed his shoulder, doubling over with laughter. The sound was music and Henryk found himself laughing just because she was. Once she’d gotten ahold of herself, she scooted her chair closer to him. 

“Alright, then, tell me about the Captain,” she said. 

“Sorry, but I believe he’s taken,” Henryk told her. 

She snorted. “You smartass. No, tell me he’s good to you. Tell me you’re happier than ever and he cooks you dinner or whatever. That he made up for making you lie and that you never worry when he’s not around.”

“I don’t worry about what he’s doing,” Henryk assured her. “And I am happy. And technically I lied to him first, so I think we’re even.” He stared into his cup of tea, playing with the handle of it. “Fuck, Eileen, I’m… stupid for him.”

She laughed again, quieter. “It’s not stupid. It’s sweet. Let me talk to him sometime?”

Henryk nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

“Great,” she said with a smirk. “Still can’t believe you lost it over a man twice your size. Never would have taken you for that type.”

Henryk picked up his cup. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

“Have mercy,” she said, shaking her head. “Now you both owe me dinner.”

“Fine,” Henryk said. “I’ll cook for you soon, how about that?”

“Lovely,” she said. “If I play my cards right will you let me touch your ears? Or is that something only the wolf can do?”

Henryk smiled and purposeful shifted his mouth to show off sharpened incisors. “You can try, but I can’t promise you won’t lose a hand.”

She snorted. “Terrifying. Let me get back to work, but feel free to bug Caryll if you need to get in touch with me again.”

“You know how to find me,” Henryk said as she stood up.

“Yeah, I’ll ask the Captain,” she said with a smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies in advance to all of you who are following this story but it's going to officially be on hiatus. I haven't been thinking much about bloodborne lately and I have no desire to write this story right now. Forcing myself to do so will only result in bad writing, so I'm going to do the smart thing and just admit I need the break. I've not been enjoying my time in the fandom for a little while now so I need to back down from it and let myself breath different air. I would suggest bookmarking this and then putting it out of your mind because I have no idea when it'll come back to me. This chapter is basically all of the backlog that I had left.  
> I still have plans for the end of the story but boy howdy I just don't want to do it right now. So, again, I'm super sorry everyone! I have no idea how long it may take me but thank you so so much to all who have read up to this point. I was writing so much because these characters were super alive to me, but at the moment I just want to do something else. Other stories hold more appeal to me. I hope you all understand and don't get too mad at me. Sometimes you have to eat different food for a while. And this won't be the first time I look a lengthy break in the middle of this story. I'm just being honest this time around.   
> Anyway, you're all beautiful and I hope you have a lovely day. I'll still rt pretty soulsborne fanart on my twitter and stuff but I am switching gears for right now. (You can pretty much blame Tetsuya Nomura. sorrysorrysorry.)  
> With love,  
> Oodles


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